The Early Hour Of Spring
by Prabir Gayen
The spring hast overflowed it's
Sublimation in silent celebration,
The indolence of drooping into floral
The hornets sing their chanson
With hearts full of bewildered capitulation.
The spring hast spread its wings
Over the datum line on my lawn
Without ripple and quiet Wayfaring.
The air Unencumbered and Home-bred Yearling,
breathes with amazed rambunctiousness
For this Inundating opulence.
Soaked in the knowledge of vastness,
The root of my mind and it's pain and
The meeting of sense and essence
and the fragrance of inanition,
The spring Incubates my mind outworn
By inward wedlock.