It is a first hour in the morning
not I with a cup of tea
nor I with a newspaper in hand
I sit on the patio just gazing
my eyes do not rest on a focus
it hovers all through in a way
could hear the birds call
the nightingale in her sweet voice
comes out with a ku ku ku
the dogs on watch go to sleep
with a snarl and a growl
the lizards on my wall
make a noise strange
the mosquitoes after their nightly pursuits
go back to their breeding place
I sit there for long lost in a reverie
I wake up from my dream
as
the newspaper brushes past my face
the next hour on I am into the schedule
Meenas Poems 