Each Morning
Morning and evening, the sun
Has seen the spectacle of carpets
That are possessed by the world
In union and chanting of songs that distress,
Managers of health stretch their necks
With fervor of the polite world.
The apples and oranges of an era in the rise
Enchant the Minneapolis
We call the religion of the orchards.
Each morning has a reposing belief
That once again an evening shall arise
From the sun as it wets the real earth
Of its potatoes.
One apple and one potato is enough
For the world's religion.
poem by Naveed Akram
Added by Poetry Lover
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