A metallic noise shatters the sleep.
I have begun it early and now
I hear the compline of the trees.
The origin of the noise remains
veiled. From the bowl of the hazy moon
crickets’ chirping bursts into a flight.
I graduate in awakening, a cup of tea –
a still life in my hands.
The sky displays its seasonal assortment,
and yet it rains. The droplets bite
the glass and crawl downward.
All are awake – zero, one, lights, clouds.
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Kushal Poddar
Picture Nick Victor
Kushal Poddar lives in Kolkata, India
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