Behold them, a tiny cavalcade,
a mother followed by her cub.
Gracing the top of the mountain;
with trunks undulating in disdain,
trumpeting to skies of gloomy stain!
a lonely pair standing aloft,
swaying to the thunderous drum beat,
of a million drops of rain and sleet.
A painting could not have wrought,
a picture so perfect that I sought.
Against the backdrop of the sky
and hills, dales and valleys too.
these two lumbered up the slope,
in search of the pachyderm herd,
that had passed on many days ago,
leaving them the sign of the rainbow.
Not a single soul for miles around,
regaled by this most unusual sight,
warming the cockles of the heart.
Lightning flashed slitting the heavens,
thunder broke rolling the clouds away;
the child trustingly grasped the tail,
plodding into the looming darkness,
while the mother cleaved the way ahead.
Watching them disappear beyond the crest,
left me with a sorrow so deep inside,
wishing that i was one of their cohort,
wanting to travel to the deepest hollow.
I will never forget that wonderful night,
of a brave mother and her insouciant child.
Sometimes i look up hoping to glimpse,
their sojourn on these lonely hills.
