In The Morning

I lie down in bed

and look out at the sky

a crow caws

I find it so musical

it opens up the universe

for me

turning my heart to memory

to water

to waves

and the world throbs

to this beat

and it is so relaxing

and delightful

I write with glee

like a skater

like a fisherman

and see how all this

all this slowly disappears

and memory returns with trees

in the evening

in the rain

and now I know there is no rest

I have to be

a bird cooing

and I am stuck

so I wait

and railway platforms

bus stops

and several other places

come to mind

and I look at the crowd

I look at myself

and find it has all become

a bit too much

and I have nothing

really to say

and stare

in this air

of free confusion

blowing

and just then the rocking trains

and their loud horns

echoing down the sky

bring me back to my room

and I find myself

still writing

and there are more crows

in the sky

now cawing

and then a cock crows

from the chawls here in Mograpada

a slow long call

in the clear cool air outside

it is like an avian symphony

in the sky

I listen

to the quietness

it makes

inside my heart

I decide to put aside my art

I stop writing

and go out into the day.

 

The above poem is from my third book The Branches (2015).

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