He quoted from the stars as though that proved the point; <br />Sensing drama in the turn of a car at the gateway, <br />Or the fall of a letter on the doormat, <br /> Like a sigh of desolate waiting; <br />Or the infant telephone in shrill complaint against its cradle, <br /> Demanding to be taken up and coddled, <br />Or even the rare tree <br /> That quivered in rapturous lightning. <br /> <br /> <br />Who signals the denouement does it in subtler ways, <br />Not through these hard, heralding omens, <br />The bric-a-brac of playwrights without plots, <br />But in some change of mood upon a nameless day, <br />After or maybe during breakfast, <br />Remembering a crescent moon <br />Seen suddenly as a silver fruit-bowl.<br /><br />Ananta Madhavan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/turning-point-18/
