Crimson Warmth

Vague log cabins speckle the yawning valley
against the rapture of majestic mountains.
Narrow pathway snakes up the range,
gooseberry shrubs colour the sides
of the stony trail that leaves me cold.

Squinting against the dead sun
chilly winds dampen my spirits
and leave my hair cold and white.
My Spine aches, am indecisive to tread;
maybe it’s not wise to dare this trek.

A faction of monks trace the swirling path
gracing like a ball of red zarberas.
Serene faces marked by a thousand lines
carry a spark to their praying eyes.

Crimson flutter reveals gleaming heads
on bare swaying shoulders;
oblivious to the dipping chill,
naked feet define a destination
warmed by their holy touch.

As the file draws nearer,
eyes are blinded by crazy winds,
Stillness wraps numb feet
and mind freezes.

they walk past me
sacred energy overwhelms
as peace descends
my heart feels an amazing warmth
And my teeth stop chattering.

Taste of summer

Crushed leaves and grass, 

tasty tangy smells of summer. 

Trees are full and plush.

Fruit are succulent and ripe.

The Gulmohar bright and proud

sways in the brisk warm breeze. 

Lazy silent afternoons are intoxicating, 

balmy winds refresh the evening walkers.

Thirsty birds skip from branch to branch

looking for water troughs.

Fearless rowdy boys are at play, 

the sun doesn’t dampen their playful spirits.

As the dusk falls in

the timid ones venture out.

I know the rains are round the corner; 

The torrid winds will soon be moist.

I take a deep breath and try to drink the summer. 

Swati Goswami