The earth shook three times and it took a whole minute to realise I was not in Gangtok of the Himalayas but right on the pillow. Behind eyes, that is. The eye shook in disbelief . It was a vast plain and we were not in a building. Then why were we exhorting everyone to lie down? We should have run outside.
Three hours later we would wake up to the new day . But sleep eluded. We looked for a poem word, until we got a fox. Ted Hughes had his thought fox for a poem. He was the thinking fox in the hole of his head. He was the old poet wedded to Sylvia ,who was wedded to depression and did not take long to take her life. Hughes was a huge fan of animals, especially the fox.
The cunning fox comes slyly and my poem is made for the new day.