Dawn:
Sky, the soft blue of
grasshopper's belly.
Guava and custard appletrees all
around, green as parrot feathers.
A single star lingers in the sky
Like the most twilight-intoxicated
girl in some village bridal
chamber
or that pearl from her bosom the
Egyptian dipped into my glass of
Nile-blue wine
one night some thousands of
years ago-
Just so, in the sky shines a single
star.
To warm their bodies through
the cold night, up-country
menials kept
a fire going
In the field-red fire like a
cockscomb blossom,
Still burning, contorting dry
aswattha leaves.
Its color in the light of the sun is
no longer like vermilion
But has become like wan desires
of a sickly salik bird's heart.
In the morning's light both sky
and surrounding dewy forest
sparkle
like iridescent peacock wings.
Dawn:
All night long a sleek brown
buck, bounding from sundari
through
arjun forests
In starless, mahogany darkness,
avoids the cheetah's grasp.
He had been waiting for this
dawn.
Down he came in its glow,
Ripping, munching fragrant
grass, green as green grapefruit.
Down he came to the river's
stinging, tingling ripples,
To instill his sleepless, weary,
bewildered body with the
current's
drive,
To feel a thrill like that of dawn
bursting through the cold and
wizened
womb of darkness
To wake like gold sun-spears
beneath this blue and
Dazzle doe after doe with beauty,
boldness, desire.
A strange sound.
The river's water red like macaka
flower petals.
Again the fire crackled-red
venison served warm.
Many an old dew-dampened
yarn, while seated on a bed of
grass
beneath the stars.
Cigarette smoke.
Several human heads, hair neatly
parted.
Guns here and there. Icy, calm,
guiltless sleep.