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A flock of pigeons fluttered round and round,

My rustic house rose up to greet them on its mound.

They bounded down gracefully to rest profound,

Finding the budding plants and the green gold around.


The rattling wheels of rushing trains and trains;

Whirling smoke of age old factories again and again;

Roaring crowd of peoples in every lane;

Their wings soiled , their flight lost the brain.


After a while, they cooed melodiously.

They turned at me - a plea in their eyes, immensely;

I grew warm, jumped high up to their world

And soon fetched a packet of grains and caringly unfurled!


HIRENDRA KUMAR MEHER





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