The Poet Community

Morning | A Poem by Ananya S. Guha

The morning is once again,
open view, clanging of milkman’s cans, gates open
school traffic. It is not rush. It is meditative, contemplating inner action, but you know morning has arrived.
You will go to work, yawn, type a line or two, three, yawn waiting for the next morning. Sleep is only delicately poised.



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