WOOLGATHERING

On my avenue to aurora
I tour miraculous peaks of Kashmir
past the oodles of deodars
lush and verdant
each one a way to characters
I have never examined

I can see cuckoos
flying by the snow
an old man blowing a water pipe
far louder than the buzz of a drone,
rivers,frozen lakes
and children playing cricket on them

As weavers were fabricating kangris

These environs!

As I hear a cockcrow
I unclose the solely window of my domicile
I see soldiers loading AK-47s
a curfewed populace,worrying faces around check-posts
columns of poplars and over these-
the barrel of an AK-47 pointing exactly at me
I’m forever minded
to take a nap
for then I can tour the miraculous peaks of Kashmir
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