From my balcony

The sun climbs a neighbor’s coconut
It is time for a long dialogue of walk
Everything is so clear and so well cut.
A neighbor ‘s tiny moonlight flowers
Had done a night’s duty of fragrance.
They are withered smiles on a road.

The parijata tree had shed its flowers
On the earth , their feet up in the air.
The feet are red , so fallen to the sky.

Sister cuckoo is shrieking for her rain
In Ashoka tree, with no idea of a sky
Hosting no clouds from Arabian sea.
Her shrieks are a despair of farmers
Who hang cotton dreams on trees.


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