A humming word

  Mountain is a shamiyana — The trees dance to the call of the birds that hum with the lilt of the wind the spectator sun, veiled by the clouds, shies away like a bride when the moon gallops with its band of stars   The sun blushes red the next morning    

 Love was a stalker when I was nine Chasing, pursuing incorrigibly, was fine   At eighteen, love was a whisper in the bakery Notes and letters and messages passed quietly   At twenty-five, love sought refuge in rebellion Amid dissent, love settled with two in a million   At thirty-six, love is an amendment and a gender discourse Political, Apolitical, it mends, blends and is deaf to signs of force