Night Poem by Prasanna Mishra

Sometimes
I find her
Insomniac, quiet and forlorn;
Sometimes, serene and asleep,
with incessant chirping
of the cricket resonating
Through the hills in the horizon;
Open eyed, sometimes,
In the wee hours
In airport terminals.
Leave her alone I pray;
Out of bounds for marauders.
If I were to be
The dispenser of justice,
I would pronounce her inalienable right
To a serene sleep
In the swinging singing arms of Mother Earth.
To usher a dawn of sanity.

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