Drizzle

It’s been drizzling in me…

Certainly, I am trying to scale the time period.

Your next question could be that, isn’t it?

To capture its time, travel and the circumference, covered or conquered…

Diameters and longitudes, are irked.

They opine, to be all inclusive, the time map needs to be accurate.

Seems the drizzle has been stealthily sauntering across all the vales.

Prodding each tar varnished mound of my heart.

Do I have a measuring tape to place at both the ends of my teetering world?

But I am staggering too, how will I balance.

Who all, will I balance and infer…

Myself, the see-sawing world and the tape…?

The idea in itself seems languishing.

Tangential I am, so thoughts will drift…

I have been sipping flagons of poems.

Thus I know a few enchanting words.

One such word is Leitmotif, contextually it feels right.

Yet, I don’t know how to measure the drizzle with it.

Then there are Larks and Birch trees,

Grinning from afar.

Conniving infiltrators, pretending to be modest,

In their lingering tenors and slender sways.

Now I know, it’s not just the drizzle.

It’s drizzle footslogging with their cacophony…

The fiasco of the cognitive flora and fauna, an arid amalgamation.

There could be more on the mayhem menu.

Now I know, that every kaleidoscope

Isn’t an innocuous device or a creativity enhancer.