Taking The Odds Poem by Satish Verma
Taking The Odds
An amniotic fluid initiates
the moon to the thunderstorm―
as you climb the tide.
Like a stag― opening the
summer, browsing on
the daisies.
It takes sometime
to sink. This was―
the peacock hour.
A finch will land―
on my shoulder and
look into my eyes, ritualizing it.
The glow was real
in your hair,
borrowed from the sun.
Thursday, January 14, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/29/2024 6:42:06 AM # 1.0.0.1119
