We were expectant
but the people didn’t come.
We were here, ready.
Now the night is arriving
with an odd, unfinished air.
3/8/11
peaceful day
a melancholy tune
wafts faintly
from somewhere nearby
ripples on still air
9/8/11
cold morning
August closes in
miserably
even the rain
is half-hearted
7/8/11
rain keeps away
the longed-for visitor
and brings instead
one seeking shelter here
whom I don’t refuse, but ...
23/8/11
this anthill
half the size of my fist
is tunnelled
like a honeycomb —
this hotel, this village
30/7/11
No comments:
Post a Comment
Comments are moderated and will be visible after being approved by the blog owner. If you can only comment anonymously, please include your name in the comment, just so I know who's talking to me.