WINTER FIRE

Where is that sweet chill of Winter

conjuring fire at the tip of your finger

that inflamed each cell to a Summer

in your lap under hot blanket cover ,

when  the turmeric leaves of your body

encircled the batter of my desires before

boiling down  into cake of a sweet prayer?

Where are those song birds gone

that roosted

In the Chilka of your dew-drenched  hair

with perfume of a bewitching peace,

after catch of fish,

pervading in the swing of  the surrounding air ?

I’m waiting for you Winter , only for your sake

here at the cold hearth of my lonely home

where you offered me a bite from that cake ;

for that pious ablution in your eyes’ lake

where your chill had a different feel

I’m waiting for your fingers

my soul to thoroughly rake .

Comp. n copy right : saroj k. padhi

12/11/14