I spend most of the mornings
and part of the evenings
in my patio abutting the garden
reading and staring
at the blue sky then gazing
the lane, alternating both,
In the nights, Brownie
substitutes for me, sleeps
holding to the cushion
of the bamboo chairs,
like a ball, snores
and snorts. The patio is live.
It is morning, I open
the doors, to find my patio
with imprints of muddy paws,
Brownie hearing
the sound of the latch
gathers herself
jumps down runs
helter skelter without
turning back.
I preside over the morning
session, Brownie at dusk.
the way we share our space,
Meenas Poems 