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Date Posted: 14:25:17 11/29/03 Sat
Author: Raphaela
Author Host/IP: webcacheB03a.cache.pol.co.uk / 195.92.168.165
Subject: Himalayan Magic

Himalayan Magic

The mid-summer monsoon rains
appear each day like clockwork
storm clouds hover menacingly
large raindrops dance defiantly.

A moment’s shelter affords relief
watching Tibetan boys play
showering naked in warm rain
welcome change from cold tub.

Laughing I too run down the street
now replaced by a gushing river
my long skirt hitched thigh high
horrified Indians bear witness.

A weekend trek to Clouds End
allows time for mind to wander
a torrent of memories unleashed
abandoning myself to daydreams.

Wandering free in rainforest green
watching monsoon rains fall softly
transcending your face and body
whilst capturing me in the mist.

Sensitive fingers work their magic
teasing, tempting, tasting desires
resulting in quivering responses
water flows, pooling and spilling.

Stars twinkle like tiny diamonds
discreetly sewn into midnight velvet
cloaking the sky in sensuous secrecy
fill me with rapturous wonderment.

Emerging rain-soaked from rickshaw
savouring the scene now miles below
shade upon shade of mountain outline
emerging bravely from the clouds.

The hunting lodge at Clouds End
once home to George Everest
transports me back over a 100 years
it is as if time had since stood still.

The jungle below raped of wildlife
while tiger skins adorn the walls
elephants now work for a living
as ivory trinkets adorn our hosts.

Yet, despite the colonial history
the poverty that still survives
amongst the wealth of temples
and the Taj Mahal of the plains

there is something very essential
quite spiritual or even sensual
when you see Himalayan Magic
in the warmIndian monsoon rains.







29 November 2003

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