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Crab Apples
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Satish Verma Tree nuts and squirrels,
play a game, as the day climbs up.
The food chain moves swiftly.
Walking on dead leaves
I was trying to find the truth.
How do I take you,
when there were no steps
to ascend the future. There was
no history of time to come.
And we are always trying
to weigh each other.
A ceramic goddess was hit,
by pellets of frozen rain.
Decapitated I pick up the head
and place on the stump.
She smiles.
You float the words.
I catch them, and write a poem.
