SWANS AT THE POND
The swans stretch their necks and drool ahead
to touch me with their red bills as out of fear I stop
and seem to sniff an old acquaintance with me
before swaggering back to waters whereto they jump
after declaring some message under the pipal tree
where flowers whisper words of love into ears of bee;
‘the trio will bite you’ someone shouts from nearby
as I follow them into the pond where they swim
fluttering their white plumes in an unknown ecstasy
sending off a whiff of cool wind to fill me to the brim
and I see you in full bloom before my mortal eyes
instantly forging an end to old, empty, nagging sighs
touching off million dormant lotuses again into bloom
casting new light on the pond’s shady verdurous gloom.
COPY RIGHT : @ SAROJ K. PADHI
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