What is water?
A playground churns,
where grasshoppers slide
slip and turn, on the foamy might.
A cracked bowl glazed
on the earth walls catch
the pearls that fall from the curdling sky.
A silken bow, of clever spin
sweeping its path into deep woods dark
to weave the threads of the arching sun.
A fisherman's song haunting
echoes spring miles of empty nets
and emerge, with sorrowful paper boats.
Sukanya Sen
