On our Verandah, listening to the raven's calls, His skilled tongue, though slow has always Held me in awe. It will remain the summer, faithful and Unquenched for months, Or as long as you want it to be for I have known Summers feeding on our expectations. Maa, why then you pat it on your skin like talcum, Why then you hold it back as if it would never return? Yesterday when you sat on the floor and picked pebbles From rice, I standing behind you, explored the grey Of your hair; the patches you dye return overnight to show Time's binding with itself. You haven't had a secret Since 84, it seems. Is there hidden in those silver weaves A summer you haven't sung? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ *Baba-Father **Maa- Mother
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