Crab Apples

Tree nuts and squirrels,
play a game, as the day climbs up.
The food chain moves swiftly.

Walking on dead leaves
I was trying to find the truth.

How do I take you,
when there were no steps
to ascend the future. There was
no history of time to come.

And we are always trying
to weigh each other.

A ceramic goddess was hit,
by pellets of frozen rain.
Decapitated I pick up the head
and place on the stump.
She smiles.

You float the words.
I catch them, and write a poem.

Satish Verma