Sipping The Moon

 Amid the limbs of
Burning up birch trees,
Blazes the crimson sun clock

I return home,
Doves are fluttering away from my fingers…

One blend of yellow and white…
An attic pigeon sequinned with beads…
A bird with eyes kohled with azure blue…
An invisible dove fashioned with colourless beams…
The feathers glide as my fingers sway,
Fingers which aren’t tinted with butterflies

In the cubicles of factories,
Parrots lounge in the cages.

The blue stamped
Grey parrots,
Perishing for the chunk of guava
Coming up at the end.

They may return home any moment
from their cages
To be restrained again tomorrow.

 
Freezing winter,
Aroma of the coffee
Brings the moon on a platter.

Parrots are slumbering
Dead to the world

I examined their claws…
Unlike mine,
They were bowed
inwards

I started to sip the Moon.