I opened my eyes to the timepiece
And I slouched there,
Breathing the certain,
Sluggish gasp of slumber
For a second, a few,
Until I came up,
At 5.30, to turn off the radio
Alarm before it slashed the still.
Sliding to my reading,
Nescafe in hand, I paused
At the front flap.
An associate had said,
Have a rest—you've had a busy day.
I had rebuffed it then, but now
I seemed to see eye to eye.
So I went outside instead.
There was not a shudder in the leaves,
No violence to agitate the stars.
The air was a cosset
That indulged me, fresh silk
Touching my ears.
Cross-legged, I parked myself on a bench.
The mantle I had got
To enfold around myself
I swathed across my lap.
Farther the valley to the east
Rose the pulse,
The slow growth
Of a brandish of resonance
Moving ahead like a deluge
Upon the vicinity:
The ooze first, then the swell,
Then the surge that beat
And then the deliberate recessional.
To be wide awake of my life besides
As a throb making headway
Along a thread,
A vibration felt by every bit,
Wheedling from each
A gauge of dew
To moisturise the lips
And enlarge the eyes
Lest there had been something
To utter or make. A clamour never
Died down only if someone was
Snooping. It became, lastly,
The outcome of a ricochet,
The nuance out
Of which the next
Pulsation rang: a cat’s yowl
Thrilling the space.
Like this, don’t revisit to forty winks.
No comments:
Post a Comment