One Summer Moon

It was getting dark. The silence starts speaking to me in a whisper for the sake of secrecy. Right now, the violence will start between the summer night and a brilliant moon. I sit in a corner to watch the milk spilling. And then, after couple of hours an anonymous call from a cuckoo in distress. Somewhere a dry twig snaps off. Something is tossed in air. A shadow pokes at moon to return the favour. The dawn, drops the veil ! Satish Verma