In the times when I don’t get much time, Book looks like sky make of paper It crumples in my mind without a drizzle Thoughts jump clouds and what was once rabbit Now has become a white dell laptop. Thunder strikes When the book I am reading actually begins with  “The sky was…” How to read what is empty then?

We said: “Nancy Catch!” She said: “###########” We said: “Come on Nancy!” She said: “Guaugasaudgeae” No matter how many times we threw ball at her, One-year-old Nancy, stood her ground. Her attention is like that of a squirrel, One minute here, another minute there Perhaps, she thought the ball is just a bait We are told she likes to stand bedside rose plant and smell mud. It’s dangerous how cleverly she talks to crow and makes clouds move. It’s like a party we keep getting invited to once she started standing her ground, her fingers pointing to all the birthday gifts. Once upon a time, she looked away from a breeze in March It took a revolution for the wind to meet her again.   Recently, when one of us picked her up, Nancy cried because she got scared And because she didn’t want to be up in air. All she wanted was to not move at all.

To: earth@bluedot.thisuniverse Subject: Transpiration is a joke Dear Earth near Mother Dairy, Been the one to sprout from a crack, I will start without a Hope you are doing well. (Also, I am the HOPE here so ….…     -_-) Even though my subject has the word joke Don’t expect a chuckle in this mail There is no punchline in my veins. Instead, I am writing this to elaborate on my plans to take over the park near Mother Dairy. Yeah, Transpiration sucks and so does gravity. I don’t have even a stomata of summer left to become seed again. Next Autumn, I will be a proton!!! in grass near that park bench. Kindly water this mail so that it grows to reach priority. One caveat: Just take care of the Squirrels who have yet to clear balances of mangoes and money plant, that just wouldn’t take a leap of faith. With haha you can laugh at some parts Tree.

On zoom classes, I keep scrolling pdf for lost stanzas There are ingenious way to be present I am sure One of them is to write a poem – A poem that sneezes without closing eyes.    When 6 C comes online a child renames himself Something this teacher couldn’t invent. Another discovers the key to take control. Teacher declines. Then there is one who questions stanza 5 in IF (second and third line to be exact) There are ingenious ways to be present I am sure. Even the birds at 9 a.m know it.  After all, how hard can it be to imagine a sneezing poem when Outside brown peepul leaves are being crowned with softer, brighter, greener crowns. A flock of twittering parrots make it so difficult to look below. When one unmuted boy with his window open takes a stand for four fighting mynahs, he fills the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds of distance run The poem has already sneezed. Last two lines taken from If by Rudyard Kipling