I wake up to this morning of tepid sun
winter's shudder has arrived, the storm
has abated. Rains peek mildly through
frozen clouds. I waver between leaving
the bed and getting ready.
All desultory.

Morning's voices speculate.
The rush for getting to school is over.
Some late comers, goers. There is movement
all around.

Inside the house, a poem calls.
Taking a pen I frantically search pages of love,
hate, passions. The ogre of silence haunts this house.
The domestic help shouts, asks me to take a bath.

I will wash myself   in absolutism and sins.