MUSICIANS OF THE STREET

BENOY P.J

There was a crowd

Tight-rope walkers

Musicians of the street

Something throbbing beneath the tar

And a cuckoo

In the bamboo bush.

There was a wave

That was waving

And a shore of sand

That was letting itself

Into its arms.

The place was alive

With thoughts, unsaid words

The peanut seller

Banged his vessel

With the spoon.

A bus passed by

Stopping for an instant

To leave somebody behind

Three squirrels clambered up

The snake wood tree, chirping

The dead bat on the electric cable

Had lost its weight and dried up.

There were bird droppings

All around where they stood

And a stray goat

Was stretching its tongue

To reach the leaf on a bush.

A group of women passed by

Laughing and speaking in their dialect.

A boy threw his hat up

And tried to catch it in the wind.

The shop had no coffee

The bus was waiting

And he was caught up

 Between letting go and going.