life in a monastery
i sat this morning, after a light breakfast of muesli, orange juice and coffee, with the sun on my hands and feet, watching hummingbirds playing in the sun. There were seven, no eight, of these delightful little things dancing in joyous harmony, darting amongst the splendid bouquets in the tree, teasing them with their childish play. The dragonflies had their own field day in the much-awaited sunshine, after two days of gloomy weather had threatened to turn sunny brazil into london. They were flying in twos and threes, carefree and spontaneous. Above me swooped two to three eagles, their wings lifted by the gentle breeze. They drifted high in the air, like kites, silent, mysterious. The roar of the foamy ocean in the distance, like jetplanes taking off - loud, soft, intermittent. The forest hummed behind me, still asleep, broken only by the sudden loud cry of a frog, or bird or some unknown inhabitant of the thick, rich forest behind me.
A moment of magic suddenly! A hummingbird stops, with its wings beating furiously, a breath away above my head, enjoying the sweet essence of the bougainvillea flower. I watched mermerised. The moment was timeless. Pure enchantment. And then it was off again.
i turned back to my book. The Ground Beneath Her Feet by Vikram Seth. i took a deep breath, breathing in the sweet fresh morning air. Time was on my side for once. i will take a dip in the ocean later.