Bowl by Sayani Mukherjee

The tiny necklace at my back

The spasmodic rhythm of the divine

At my worst I call a light

It's divided and careless

Fidgety spinning all around

The globe moves on

It's an autumn child they called

Few hydrangeas lay at my desk

I call and back to tell the truth

The divine rhythm all around us

To a matchstick it hinges upon

As I knew the summer from autumn

Where lie little fishes into my bowl.