Again the Grey World

hangs from my mind

this morning

like a bird’s nest

I think of vines

this wooded place

I would go to

at Ismail Yusuf college

when I first moved

here to Andheri

I would go there

and read poetry

sitting on a rock

I would devour books

by James Wright

and Dylan Thomas

and Robert Creeley

while the white sky

slowed down to listen

after a while it cried

and the rain that fell

made the green world

burst into colour

the trees stood silent

like old and wise creatures

their black trunks wet

the universe was singing

I could hear it

in every spore

every sound

every breath I took

and how my heart exploded

in wonder

when this curious mongoose

came around

to look.

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