The supermoon was rising with
a great aplomb to shame the stars.

At night the buttercups wage a war.
Come unpretending, as you, not him, -

on the lake, becoming a stranger to
yourself. There ia an endless nocturnal confession.

Do you know the poison tree blooms,
when the golden eagle rises to take a dive

on the row of funerals.

Satish Verma

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/black-river/