On Wet Grass Poem by Koyamparambath Satchidanandan
On Wet Grass
That footprint on the wet grass
needs not be death's;
may be a folksong has gone by.
The butterfly quivering on your palm
has something to tell you.
How the falling mangoes and jasmines
look for your cupped hands
To stop them midway!
Don't you hear the sea whisper
not to pay back your debts?
Even your dark little room
has a piece of sky.
Everything is blessed:
fish, crickets, sedges,
sunlight, lips, words.
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5/19/2024 12:33:02 PM # 1.0.0.1119
On Wet Grass as a poem is full of musings, visionary glides and dreamy slides. Everything is based on a supposition and the things keep swapping places and positions. The conjecture element is so strong.The wet leaf of grass with the footprint impressed tells of the folk song passed over after leaving the traces