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Order this writing that appears in the one-of-a-kind anthology The Limits of Imagination the Down in the Dirt January - April 2024 issues collection book		get the 422 page January - April 2024 Down in the Dirt 6" x 9" ISBN# perfect-bound paperback book:

February

Mukut Borpujari

I’m crawling out of this season of hard cold winter,
That stayed long enough.
The bottom of my feet kicked up dirt on the hard asphalt.
When I planted a mango tree it smelled of green earth —
Pulsing sun, dirt, and water.
I do remember this. I pinned summer light upon my back
And made no apologies for the space I took up —
Barely clothed and sun-burned.

Now, a ball of cotton in the grey sky.
The sun rolls low on the horizon, hangs,
Then dips behind a city block.
Wind howling us into the night.
Inside in the erratic rhythm of this flickering
Shadows and light,
I conjure up the potent sky of the longest day;
Seeds, with a whole galaxy inside them.
Cicadas vibrating outside
On the branches of a giant neem tree.

I never expected to find myself in such a cold place,
My hands dry out against the cold.
I let the memory out, let it linger on the horizon,
Some kind of flying like a kite — again and again.
I loosen the buckles of my mind to fly back in time,
To the days of dried out paddy fields, and herds of cattle —
I let it stay there.

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