KRISHNA PACHEGAONKAR
Dark, wet trees part for
my lantern. I hear
the hushed applause of
rain on leaves, and
follow the welcome
carpet of light unrolled
from the open door
across soft grass. Smoke
pours down from the
chimney to embrace me.
Wet leaves cling to my
boots. Two rabbits
dance back and forth
like happy children
and a face pale as the moon peers from
the door in greeting.