In your* lines I’ve found my autumnal sky.
From the frozen spirit like a skein of geese
a hidden joy takes its soaring flight.
Fungi words sprout in my dead log heart—
where I hang my sorrow-web in dewy smile—
my tawny soul is agape at your divine art.
Your songs stir stars in my dark core.
Holding hands take me to dawn’s shore.
*refers to poet Tagore. This is my little tribute to him and his art.