The Dreams of Twilight Hour

When I was not six
Nor seven, somewhere in between
In bold letters and green
Of the primary books I read
That while it drizzles lightly
Over the ponds and riverbeds
Lakes and distant streams
And a soft breeze wefts over
The face of the water
Breaking its calm into little ripples
The tiny fishes as though,
Touched by an arcane magic
Come out, leap in the air
Frolic a while and then
Drop, dive into the water&;#8230;deep.

And since then I looked for
A light rain over the ponds
Until, the clouds came one day
On the wings of a tender wind
And Hey! How they fell
The raindrops one by one
Making circles and whirls
Drop by drop by drop
I knew it was the same drizzle
In which the little fishes romped.

Hush! I said to my pounding heart
And awaited the wonder
Slowly, bit by bit, I could see
The baby fish thronged beneath
The limpid surface, and look!
One and two and three
High they jumped into the air
As twisting water-spirits, silvery green
The little raindrops and the playful fish
Together wove magical music
Ting! Tong! Ting! In the spring.

And so they do come true, I know
The dreams of twilight hour
Touched by and arcane power!