• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 07

to this constant ache

for clear, green places
where sitting is an act
of prayer to the exquisite
sunlight gilding our hair
here is a dream: haloed
by vibgyor, we are
spring’s first flush
dozy with pleasure
the concertina
breathes into blades
of grass, the wind
a murmur pausing on
the backs of cattle,
the sky is watercolor
still life of radiant days

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