Like sparks of fire
Float in the air
Plastic pouches
Carried by slouches,
Orts and crumbs of bread
Chinky sambhar pokes
Like dugs of bitches,
Broken egg shells
Filthy linens
Scattered all around
The overflowing waste-bin
Shared by strays and croaks:
I cross them carefully
Avoiding the excreta
Negotiating through parked vehicles
To find in the middle of the town
Sweeper maids like soldiers
March on the street with besoms on shoulders
Where tourists set feet
Where the VIPs cops greet:
Clever people serve the people
And share the exploits.

Entering the home
For peaceful shelter
I look at the sky
To forget the roads thereby
Look at the sun moon or star
Trees and birds
To get solace in Nature.