Idle Afternoon

On an idle afternoon in Poüs I’m lying on my back,
the still clouds in the sky float a protective warmth
down onto a sunburnt face of 64 summers,
for long I’ve had no fine intention … I’ve not looked up,
but eating, and bodily labours of love, of waste issue,
and writing – with or without a purpose – and riffling
through notes and coins, with Gandhiji smiling on –
all this has been done with my head down, and now on my back
on and on I am looking at the sky …
an aeroplane flies past, making for Dum Dum airport,
a bird flies past, making for God knows where –

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