Hope has alchemic wings
Hope who has alchemic wings, crimson-bright,
Entered my garden and perched on a low twig;
Fragrance of the wind thrilled its little soul
And soon began to bite honey-loaded fig.
I offered it plateful of premium rice,
Sweet, full of aroma, cooked on sandalwood fire;
It smiled and reminded me of saffron threads
With ice cubes the deluxe taste would require.
The crow who was born in the night’s blackness
Saw in the hope-bird a sudden snow-white chance;
It recognised the old nature’s yearning for change,
She with the occult in her wonders to enhance.
Winged bird who had come from the solar world
Showed me surprises that would be unfurled.
8 October 2026

White Crow

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