From ULR
Issue 7 – Environment
LEAF FALL IN CHENNAI
Red leaves turn, not autumn, absorbing the harsh world's breath, yet whisper quiet, ancient forgiveness.
June 15, 2022
It is not Autumn, but the leaves are turning red.
It is never Autumn here.
Then why this endless blush and shame
or is it anger? Red
glowering anger. And what
of the smog and dust? The heat. And hate? Yes,
that too must be accounted for.
There is such beauty in the death of a leaf.
Dying as if all is not lost.
And, something is still waiting…
Soft. So soft. Even the limbs
of crawlers tread softly. Unheard by
human ears. Beyond eye level. Dry
earth eats the smoke of chlorophyl and
breathes. Turns a forgiving,
benevolent eye. It is not Autumn here.
It is never Autumn here.
The leaves are dying at their own
pace and time. Their self-propelled
cycles. They chart their courses. We
cannot read them. But they read us.
At nightfall they go into a huddle,
streaming healing messages to each
other. At sunrise they forgive us.
📖
PART OF A COLLECTIONFIREFLIES and 4 other poems
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Shikhandin
Shikhandin is the nom de plume of an Indian writer who writes for adults and children. Her published books, as Shikhandin, include “Immoderate Men” (Speaking Tiger), and “Vibhuti Cat” (Duckbill-Penguin-RHI). Contributor to Magic Stories for Eight Year Olds by Penguin RHI, and Flipped: An Anthology of School and Sports Stories by Harper Collins. She has been honoured with many national and international awards.