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When
they get close enough
You give them
Your Kiss
Under the spreading
neem tree
Down in ancient
Poona.
They wander,
the puerile and neglected,
In the ignorance
of their vacant dreams,
And the keeness
of Your sunlight glance
Does not miss
a one.
They puff upon their
beedies*
And try to hide from
God
As they journey from
horizon to horizon,
Right past You without
turning,
Taking thus the long
road to Your feet.
Once in awhile
A beggar of Earth
Collapses there in defeat,
His struggle over,
And you take him under
The wings of Your great
love.
And when He comes on
his bicycle,
The One You have awaited
all these years,
Your Kiss brings in
the world's new age.
Nothing ever escapes
You,
And nothing ever will--
And even God Himself
Comes to Your door--
Under the spreading
neem tree,
Down in ancient Poona.
_______
*beedies: Indian cigarettes
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