Pic by Dilshan Boange |
rolled over hillock
moved with wind on grass
surveyed the trees
looked for Sambur,
dropped from World’s End
risen with spray
where the elephant slaughterer
did not fall,
taken in the slope
of Kirigalpotha
alighted on Ravana’s port
Thotupola
delighted in April’s bloomage
picked at ferns
strange and familiar,
and missed the moss
those touch-me-nots
of wide eyed sweep
of things visit-marked,
softer though,
more delicate to touch
eye-unguent
to those with sight.
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