We went barefoot
To the edges of where
The earth uprooted, and
Trees lay barren, with sand
tracks bearing testimony to a
Wretched depravity of time !
And we lay threadbare
In the cool April night,
Gazing upsky for hours,
Waiting in expectations,
For ñ elusive silverlight,
Of the fiery celestial might.
Of it's exhilarating approach,
and it's rapid tumultuous demise,
East onto west; upon the lunar sky.
And we wished to capture it, but
All that we could come up with,
Ws' an oak tree, in its wry solitude
Standing stolid, sly and slender
Mere spectator to the cosmos,
Yet, laughing at our fascination;
Of a lucid spectacle,
Which it did witness,
In its forlorn anomaly,
Innumerable instances
Of it's stoic incessant
Time.

Scarce cloud on the upsky,
Scarce mind in the uphouse

No rain for the toad at chair,
More pain for the pauper’s child –

It’s winter.