The first ray of sunshine morphs into the last ray
Every day from day to day
The world moves on
From dawn to dawn.
The birds twitter, unfazed,
Whether the day is sour or bitter.
Before one can bat an eyelid,
One more day vaults into the saddle
And gallops away.
The bats begin to flit from tree to tree.
A peasant lags homeward from his labour
Humming a tired song.
Trees whisper like judgmental folks
Inadvertently, poking away his wrinkles.
The peasant smiles; hope flickers, like a firefly bright.
What is for dinner tonight?
He wonders, licking his tired lips
But assailed by lots of thoughts.
Will the loans be waived?
Will there be a bumper harvest, a drought or a flood?
Alas, he blunders and trips into smothering mud
With a thud unheard.
And becomes invisible
SEPT/OCT 2017 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
An academician, essayist-novelist -poet, I have an insane passion to write about everything under the sun or the moon! Some of my books like Ballad of Bapu: [a poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi] and Where are the lilacs? [a collection of 111 peace poems] have been internationally acclaimed. Flights from my terrace is my ebook of 58 essays on Smashwords .