Amid frequent storms chased by falling glaciers,
the seed of rebirth waits
in the shade of an old hill, glaring at the foothills
punched and kicked by circling waters.
Childhood will be a swim and the destination
may be doom, clay filled riversides or
Born latent inside the womb of a new moon
it has leaped out of the cradle of trap.
It has learnt art of be-fooling;
foraging sustenance through sleeping rocks.