seemingly stationary
like a stack of turtles
the evening clouds remind me
of the sea
the night after a season's first storm
a neem tree that looked naked
yet all seems to be not lost
as the stack of turtles slide
to let in
a half-dead light
and we start to search
for leaves missing
one two three
like infants we love to count
our happiness
how much rain could make a puddle
and how many puddles must coalesce
to make a river
our river
our sea
the neem sways its head
does it want an answer
turtles in the sky chase a dying sun
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