In the middle rung of the ladder

In the middle rung of the ladder.

I am in the middle rung of the ladder,
skyward ruminations amidst fear,
for the ladder is shaken by the battening
wind. Below, I see mounds and murk ,
Gossamer like cobweb runs from
Somewhere inside the window of
a house ageless .The bricks and lime
are falling. The unconscious nonagenarian
on the cot , equally counting its days,
“ give me a hand “ I beseech the
Sturdy branch of a banyan tree,
Banyan rehearses a past history .
I climb down only to view
the anthills on the platform.