The sky has darkened before its time: <br />a swarm of locusts, <br />not a thunder-storm. <br /> <br />To protect my tender crops <br />I build foolish fires, <br />burning everything handy. <br />The smoke drives some away, <br />kills some. The rest descend. <br />Hosts of them camp in my head. <br />Frenzied, I run about, <br />stamping the earth with bare heels. <br />I shout, clapping bits of tin <br />to distract the devouring. <br /> <br />When there is a famine within <br />we shan't go completely hungry: <br />we'll heap all the dead words <br />and cook them. It is said <br />they are delicious with rice and lentils. <br /> <br />[From The Used Book]<br /><br />Makarand Paranjape<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/food-for-thought-26/
