(I guess) some birds don't return to roosts.

The earthy swamp, becoming an unopened letter,

sends news in their sultry wing's crease—

'no, no.. no need to come back.. stay well, be happy.'

Then, abhiman-a layer upon layer world-weariness

crumbles unto their feather's pleat.

The wings never felt such burdensome before!

Such mellowing shehnai at the summons of the ground ..

is that somewhat new?

A few homely birds, thus, become migratory.

The unread letter sprawls like the spider web of the atlas.

Then one day, this too, becomes bearable …

Bipasha Haque is a diaspora writer with particular interest in life-the way it is. By profession she is a university teacher.