The Nature’s Kitchen Is My Playground

absorbed in the thicket,
with chaos spreading out
like liquid nitrogen. Blue Rock Thrush
eyes puff up in the hushed wind.
it barks with her beak pointing to the hill. scratching the scalp, gently brushing
the beardless cheek with fingers,
another irrational wave hits me.
my permeable sweat-soaked reservoir
oozes out droplets of mercury.
Is it the pressure of time working? The pressure cooker whistles,
it’s the spicy biryani watering my mouth
from my neighbor’s windows.
I think of my home freezing in the
cold winter, though it’s warm here.
the dust on the fan blades remind
me of the woman’s voice I long to hear. parrots and pigeons make the sky
greenish-bluish-white. clouds cuddle around
sifting sunlight while sinking up and down.
the burbling of the waterfall fills me with a
never-ending force. To lie naked and let
nature take off the remaining clothes.