Pale Bloodless Body Of A Poet Poem by SRIRANJI ARATISANKAR

Then the evening slowly coming stood under the fig tree
Then the twilight under the wings of home-sick flying birds
Then tender smell of darkness seeming in the air
Then the trees started writing poems with the moon-light ink
Then the fire-flies absorbed in sketching geometrical problems
Then the stars stealthily assembled under the canopy
Then the blood-thirsty hungry demon come out from the cave
Then one shiny morning pale bloodless body of a poet found in the grave.