Vocation Poem by Boudhayan Mukherjee

I've gulped pages of dust
lest words fly
vortex of fire in lust
danced
with liquid shadows.

Stood air below
a child's feet,
bunchy mutha grass
turned yellow
under metamorphic concrete.

Grey earth flew
as essence
of my breath stuck
in poetic clue.

Humus turned grey
then blonde
as Nature loves
to lock doors beyond

a poet's dreams
to let winter beat
crestfallen bowers,
the panicles of wheat.

Like dust in a storm
words detach, float- -
I hold the net
I reform.