Words flock to me like pigeons
jostling for grain on an April morn
gargling syllables that were dampened
by a heavy downpour
Sun burns a cluster of crotons
leaves bear scars of diverse hues
as the pigeons burble and make
shadows blend with shadows
and separate
Near an alcove they halt startled
by the sight of a bald stump
a severed banyan
The tree that gave the thickest shade
to a traveler
Who returned each spring
to feed the birds
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