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Noon time- Sunday

we sit on a television cable
hanging vertically
down the roof of a four floor
apartment building,
she, me and the male house sparrow
with whites around the eyes.

from there we watch the stray dog
eating the left-over chapathi
fed by an old greed fed up with food,
three crows wait
for the mongrel to finish
his portion of the meal,

all of them are dressed in adequacy,
the furry dog,
crows in black tatters,
the male sparrow softness of whose feathers
wring my envy drip,

we are sort of naked,
that we even smell each other,
sliding by the old wire
dotted here and there
by drops of lime
spilled during the last white wash.

it's perilous to perch in this fashion,
we hope to move in to our pen
when the sparrow gets his sweet-heart back,
and do what we are good at doing
anytime in the day.

Saranyan BV © October 2011

poem by Saranyan Bee
Added by Poetry Lover
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