A clear-dandruff like collection of clouds
should mean I am coming to the ruffle of leaves.
A cue to the coral should mean it is 7
and I am to miss tea.
A well-stationed azure should mean
the bus will have left.
A wind is still learning to settle
what it is going to leave behind.
On the roads where people spill along
with brown leaves, there is a reflection
of a chai spilled, a biscuit broken —
a tip to summer and an earthworm.
When I arrive early, I take a longer route.

When I arrive late, I already see
the sky at home
(from some other place).
Glad that the one thing that won’t move with me
will be this.
I am occupied, looking around,
because
I do not need to carry the sky
or pack it or remember it forever.
I can’t really do any of those things.
Even knowing that my travels speak to me
more about home, should have
made me feel adjusted. Most days,
I feel well-travelled.