We imagined time frame of five or six years
As a part of God’s scheme, for our existence
On the graphic tree on the celestial computer.
We found it hard and bit breathless to think
Of a longer time frame, as if in younger days.
We saw the crows, one two or three, on tree.
They always recalled rice balls on back wall
To be fed in the memory to the ancient dead.
It was their back in a tree that brought death
To the fore, even in fog-laden morning parks
And the women still remember life and birth
In undertones of textiles and silky whispers.
Their mother-softness and milky-white loves
Began this scheme years ago in their bellies .
And the crows somehow seemed to have say
In this whole scheme, towards its close-end.
Momentary poems 