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| Nogent Sur Oise, Criel in the background |
The same
panoramic view,
The texture
now drowsy
And now
resplendently new—
The
providence of mother busy—,
Before the
same two dull eyes
Now
blood-shot, now morbidly dyed.
It’s the
rain of today
Like the rare
expo of mother’s skill
Languidly falling
bigger drops, say
Like beaded curtain
in rolling drill
But the ripples
of distant tiny drops
Myriad, entangled
like flurry of hopes—
To live now or
stuck out there;
To value it or
to be swept away
Into myriad eternity
yonder,
Uncertainty flickers
at murky bay.
Even so attached
tomorrow
Like a formless
desperate crow.
Nay I can look
out there
Or have such
intertwined plans.
Nay, even for
a second, I dare
Think that I
of such swimming clan.
Say coward. Yes,
I am but dreamer
I am but so preposterous
for you—
As I dream
Off the ground
of flurries,
So novel yet
so outrageous.
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