Under the shade of an acaciaIn the summer heatYour father pines for Autumn.For the mulch and the wet bark,For the damp cold grassWhich packs itself in messy tuftsAround the fenceposts. I was eleven years oldAnd I put myself inside his mind(For I had not yet lost that power)And this is what I saw; Twelve white peacocks flying westBringing in the dawnAnd at their head a … [Read more...] about The Marital Garland Of Apollo, By: Narasimha Lyer