Morning Dew by Hirak Dasgupta

Morning dew settles on grass

and in cobwebs of spiders

life teems in the veins of the soil

soon it will be noonday

and the dew will be gone; ephemeral –

that’s how our life has always been

I walk on thin ice

the frozen water cracks and weeps

under my feet

I can see the fish inside –

trapped, half-dead

waiting to be killed by a man

I have been that fish; not anymore

I decide how and when I must go

I’ll trade places with the morning dew

and let the sun

take my life

Hirak Dasgupta writes a column for a major Indian newspaper on small-town issues. He is also a published author and poet, and his works have been published in journals both Indian and International. He is a teacher by profession and teaches English for a living.  

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