Pouring

Urn was carring the snow unmelted like the soul of night. It was a very strange winter like araucaria puzzle. Who was dragging the evergreens over the chaste cliff ? All the incogerent roots have broken the placenta for new gods. Millionaires ? The marriage of basil at dusk with a paperweight, unleaving the road. I was hearing the footsteps of dawn, though sky was not listening to knocks. Satish Verma