but him and me,
has the time to spare
to stare
at the lonely dancing peacock
this Tuesday morning.
Even the peahens around it
are busy pecking
the grain
that my neighbor puts out ritualistically,
before the twice as many pigeons
devour it all.
While on the other side of us
leaf by dozens of leaves
the peepul
sheds its old avatar
in its annual (or biannual?) molt
preparing for its figs and greenery
that will invite the migrating
rosy starlings.
Till then
we wait and watch
the tree's skin descend
on our terrace.
And in a futile attempt
at scooping the leaves off it
I find a stubborn pair
of black red moths
stuck at their rear
busy creating their own new life.
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