Lament of the old basket seller
_________________________
Why does this city
not recognise me anymore ,
the stones of the sidewalks
know me
and my step,
the birds ....
they
know my voice
and the seasons
time me  yet ,
but , you
who do not 
buy my baskets
anymore ....
do you not know me ?
or hear my cry ....
I make the same baskets
that I have been
making
for centuries .....
same , since always 
if I never changed
why did you ?

Winter's end

Beneath the blanket of the snow
life sleeps soundly , to wake an grow
and the now cold bird with the forlorn eye
is soon to sing,  for the summer's nigh .
The ice on the dal will sink and mix
with the warm undercurrent upto old tricks ,
and the birds migratory will say good bye
"only till the new winter then back we fly "
And you and I will love again
for the call of the spring does invite sweet pain,
and look in the brooks for a vision new
and seek again the warmth that winter slew .....