Poetry

Stray Birds I  Stray birds of summer come to my  window to sing and fly away.  And yellow leaves of autumn, which  have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh.  II O Troupe of little vagrants of the  world, leave your footprints in  my words ...!!! Uprooted . It took all our weight to drag the chain over the stump, my brother  and I heaving links heavy enough to strangle hope. Our hands lost  in grandfather’s big work gloves, slick grass betrayed our bare feet.  The tractor vibrated low. Hummed , screeched, and began humming again.  Smoke marbled gray the blue morning. Where we once played king-of-the-hill  on the stump’s weathered face, we now played Judas with an iron-linked kiss.

Morning. As the hum mingbirds were hovering At the awakening of the Morning Glory, Awakening from the bowels of the sunrise  And you were basking and smacking your cherry lips, As you sucked the dewdrops of the morning I kissed you as you were blossoming and blooming...!!! A Village Story. Krishnakali In the village they call her the dark girl / but to me she is the flower Krishnakal SUPPOSING I became a champa flower, just for fun, and grew on a branch high up that tree, and shook in the wind with laughter and danced upon the newly budded leaves, would you know me, mother? You would call, "Baby, where are you?" and I should laugh to myself and keep quite quiet.