Trees stand there <br />like dummies lifeless <br />as if painted on a dead canvas. <br />People come out of <br />their heated ovens only <br />when the sun throws them <br />in an illusion of setting. <br />The body is as if emerged <br />from a dip in salty sea waters... <br />The earth sits by a country stove <br />even when it's time to rest <br />in the cool shadows of <br />the moon-tree... <br />Open the tap, and lo, you've <br />water from natural hot springs... <br />Even before it gets dissolved <br />in the earth, the body attains <br />a coat of it dotted with <br />salt particles <br />as a dress rehearsal... <br />In his own making to <br />satisfy his greed, how man has extended <br />the seasons to his own peril<br /><br />indira babbellapati<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/o-ho/
