waking up in the clouds

i curled up a little more to myself, eyes closed, hoping to finish the last dream
when a whiff of moist air sneaked into my sleeping bag through an open seam

It ruffled my hair and kissed my cheeks while nuzzling my nose pink and cold
then swirling into my ears it hushed, 'hey! wake up, to what is about to unfold'

'Uh no', i complained, pulling over the blanket, 'let me finish my dream atleast'
'Just when I was about to step on the clouds, you'd to give me a singing treat'

too late it was, knowing the dream was lost, i turned to loll up against the wall
when a driftless note from a migratin' flock broke the weltschmerz encasin' all

i opened my eyes only to realise that i was drenched every bit in my ol' dream
with wisps of clouds sauntering around, somewhat sleepy like a sylvan stream

the silence played a silvery note that rested on my lips like the Buddha's smile
while the pastoral mist that blurred the vista, incensed me from a distant mile

i got up mesmerized, to take a walk around an old temple on a mountain rock
through the wild flowers dyed in dew to colours of peach, purple and peacock

never ever had i woken up to a morning, so serene, so sacred yet so sublime
where in every breath was woven a beautiful story, each one an amaranthine!

P.S. - penned down a poem after a night trek to Rangaswamy Betta, courtesy Bangalore Mt Club