Sunil Sharma



The sun in the window-glass



A splinter of the sun

caught by a window

5.30 pm



the chipped orb

stuck in a top-floor apartment

and held there for few minutes

longer,

on a wintry dusk in Delhi,



the glass

becomes a liquid surface:

fired by the reds, yellows and oranges

the small frame

like

a painting

by an angry Monet.





City

Red-vented bulbul

perched

on a broadband cable;



a picture of rest

and energy;



beak open,

wings---

partially at rest,

ready to take fly,

at first danger

from the smoggy skies

or the earth;



the tiny being, vulnerable



like

migrant labour

wandering

in a place---strange

formidable, hostile.
 


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