Canticle For My Son Poem by Arvind Krishna Mehrotra
Canticle For My Son
The dog barks and the cat mews,
The moon comes out in the sky,
The birds are mostly settled.
I envy your twelve hours
Of uninterrupted dreaming.
I take your small palms in mine
And don't know what
To do with them. Beware, my son,
Of those old clear-headed women
Who never miss a funeral.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
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4/25/2024 2:00:36 AM # 1.0.0.1119
What lesson does he want to give in the Kiplingesque style to his son, we do not know it clearly. Why does he ask his son on the guard of the old clear-headed women?