by Anna Chandy
From the window of a new house, occupied briefly to transform it into a home with sundry ceremonies, the narrator observes a Silver Oak magnanimously offer itself as a space to be. Anna Chandy’s poem is about another notion of home.
Green leaves, a silvery mellow
Edge a dry brown twine.
This silver oak of mine
Dresses a hot April with yellow.
Spindly ochre combs,
Conjure a dusky halo.
The breeze plays out a sombre cello
An unusual urban rhapsody in chrome.
Bristly russet, a crackly skin
Shade my musty vacant stub.
Oh, silver singsong hub!
Lend me your homely din.
Better still, let me climb down
To your cool dark womb
And sleep out a warm afternoon
In this very strange town.
A chirp, a cheep, a twitter
A jabber, an occasional whistle,
A banter around the ordinary thistle
Wind-clad memories sweep aflutter.
In search of a hearth,
A home of my own,
Amid rustles of a golden noon
In my heart it found new birth.
Anna Chandy is an educator by passion. Her poems were published by Delhi Poetree in their 2015 anthology Word Wine. She has read her poems at Kitab Khana, Mumbai. She lives in Mumbai.
Excellent composition of thoughts.