Karishma Sangtani

Morning my feet are snarled in that misty morning that day he tossed and reeled and seemed as if he could have died. the golden flowers and the leaden sky the biscuit tins, and dishes. across the road A Falcon dancing in the breeze. (The words from this earsure poem appear from behind the overlaid painting of a rising sun with its beams stretching into a blue sky)