The moment of the dew

Source: The Hitavada      Date: 01 Aug 2017 09:48:13


 

By Vijay Phanshikar


A DEW sufficed itself
And satisfied a leaf,
And felt, ‘how vast a destiny!
How trivial is life!’

The sun went out to work,
The day went out to play,
But not again that dew was seen
By physiognomy.

Whether by day abducted,
Or emptied by the sun
Into the sea, in passing,
Eternally unknown.

- A Dew Sufficed Itself ,
By Emily Dickinson

The dew drop!
Nature’s best signature!
Morning’s imprint!
Evening’s footprint!

Its stealth is really light-footed, just
beautiful, truly dainty. It just parachutes onto a leaf or a blade of grass -- and then stays there for a while. And when it is there, it appears
eternal, as if born to be there, so almost engraved on Nature’s face, like that endearing wart on a beautiful damsel’s cheek!
It rules the roost. It glows in shade and dark. It smiles in itself. It spreads glee that
everybody shares. It shines. It brightens up the mind. And as one walks on the grass barefoot in the morns and evenings, one feels its
slivery, silky, wet
presence. The dew drop is gone with the human footprint. But its wetness stays, it sticks on, making its presence felt for long.
That’s dew, eternal Nature’s most ephemeral signature!
The dew drop’s romance anyone can see and sense, though. For, as if it is born to wait for the sun to arrive, up in the sky, so much away. Yet, when the sun arrives, and sends its rays, the ambassadors of light, to the earth, the dew just melts, as if merging with the
rays -- in order to travel to the sun up there,
so much above.
Emily Dickinson captures this very
effectively --
-- The sun went out to work,
The day went out to play,
But not again that dew was seen
By physiognomy. ...

Dew, the dew drop, has always had a special place -- in human thought, if not in poetry always. For, when the dew appears, in drops and droplets, it is the most visible sight in Nature, most appealing to senses. For, it shows up with a fragrance of its own, an appearance of its own -- distinctive,
and daring as well.
It is destined, so to say, to disappear with the first rays of the sun. But then, it also waits for the sun to send in his messengers of his love -- so that the dew can merge, become one, with the sun, the ultimate romancer into whose warm arms it has to melt, vanish --
-- Whether by day abducted,
Or emptied by the sun
Into the sea, in passing,
Eternally unknown.
The dew drops have often charmed the poets and the painters and the dreamers and the romancers. Even though it is so terribly momentary -- in life and in its destiny --, the dew has often held a place that has lasted the whole lifetime -- of man’s walk on earth -- since it began, whenever it did!.