Damp still, sun’s rays trapped
in the womb of monsoon clouds;
As if the morning star was too
circumspect to break through the
sullen haze of uncertainty;
A herd of crows keep drilling
Into my unresponsive ears their
anxious search for morning crumbs.
Blame them not ; they need to
see the day ease out.
Yeah! Is the day done with buying
a sheaf of groceries, craftily spun
T-shirt, relishing mouthfuls of
masala-laced dishes? Or is it all
to an existence which begins in
the dark ….and ends there?
A query that peters out like vaporous
wispy clouds; its hue changes
before the wink of an eye.
Uncertainty too is cloudy, empties
sooner than one can spot it.
Their crowing is down to a satiated groan now.
They or some have found their crumbs.
K.S.Subramanian from India has published two volumes of poetry titled Ragpickers and Treading on gnarled sand through the Writers Workshop, Kolkata, India. His poems have appeared in several anthologies at home and abroad and web sites, notably browncritique.com, poetrymagazine.com, unesco.it, Yorick Magazine, museindia.com, synapse.net, poemhunter.com among others.