Earth Is Moving Poem by Satish Verma

It is pouring.
You can feel, smell and touch
the rain. A river of qualms―
starts swelling. Watercress―
will decide the fate of water.

Do not consent to switch off
the amplitude. You cannot drink the sky.

Keeping the lexicon― of road map in order.

The scope of communiqué
expires, if you do not offer the apology
for dousing the snow with
conspiracy and setting it on fire.

A daring attack takes place
to avenge the insult of mountains.