Tuesday, July 2, 2013

A poem: Aftermath of Order

Piled high leaves; A squirrel is plying there,

Does she see another watching?

Slide, slip down; she is seeking there,

Does she hear the red bird, chirping?

World opened wide; A bit of raking there,

I did not see them watching.

I did not hear them waiting.

Drip, drop, fall; a few drops here and there,

She leaves by leaps ascending,

Her tail tugging my thoughts,

Of this aftermath of order.

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