Saturday, January 7, 2012

Waking up to a gloomy sky

You crossed my dream again
your hair disheveled in winter
a solitary willow on the road

I nurture saplings
and you put on my grandmother's rebuke
a gray-haired piercing spectacle

Your words sting afterward
flying red ants that swarm in hundreds

Years have flown with incoming
and outgoing of monsoons
with non ending drone of crickets

The sky percolates tears at times
a few settle as beads on the web
spun by a black widow

There is hardly any light in the house today

I can hardly bear the knuckle pain
setting my curtains aside
searching for a half alive sun

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