Weavers Too Look At The Sky... Poem by PARTHA SARATHI PAUL

when a woodpecker
pecks at a hollow stem
his pains may be prized
or may just go in vain

the sky never wears a dark finery
of thick fleece of floating clouds
just to entertain an eager peacock
who`s dying to spread out the proud beauty

dead men never tell tales
but living voice stirs them in the graves
they die to let others live
all the years they would miss

hard to overhaul pig-headed undoings
yet like a bolt from the blue
one may hit the long desired jackpot
long before they kick the cursed bucket