Ode to Imagination

Barks! Howls! some burning sulphur and a silent night,
Bats and owls to rest, on a returning flight;
The Koel sings to near dawn glory, on empty streets and cold boxes:
All await with self conceived content, to celebrate-
to cherish, to welcome a burning dawn.

The dogs still bark, and the train whistles,
the soft sulphur smoke burning, to fall
As a swift breeze sizzles down a memory-
To thought, To nostalgia, To a happening moment now

The Koel sings and the train still whistles,
In harmony of distant joy, the time
Of drizzles drenched in green, awaiting,
Arise red, orange fire; and dawn
would come

To empty streets, the first feet laid, to live-
The boxes newly made-of broken bits,
Of crazy fits- Welcome, red rage,
White peace, Soft clouds, first Light:
Welcome, the wait to morn.