Under A Tree

krutarth

I lie on;

the patterning grass,

the blinding light,

falling on my squirming eyes,

grateful to be alive;

as I listen to;

the koel's dying chime.

 

The light dances;

on my body,

like spots on a feral cat,

as the branches;

swoop,

and the leaves;

rustle,

in the summer breeze.

  • Author: krutarth (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: December 1st, 2021 23:56
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 9
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Comments +

Comments2

  • L. B. Mek

    surrealist, narrative?
    a cacophonous bridging of genres
    ambitious poetry, yet
    the poet, clearly respects their art
    by exemplifying
    their wordsmithing eloquence
    with such sincerity,
    a great read!
    thanks for choosing to share

  • Lorna

    I love it and the touch of India with it's koel......



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