She plants perennials
even as he predicts a drought
based on expert forecasts
long-term thinking assures
preparedness, he says,
doubtful it’s a good year
to plant
so what?
she exclaims, her hands
covered in soil
just as certain that Earth
knows better than
to rely on predictions.
© Neetu Malik
Previously published in Writers & Readers Magazine, UK.
a nip in the air
swirling to my feet
one blushing leaf
~
Autumn tiptoes
nudging Summer
out the door
~
flowers and dreams
the earth churns and mulches
I, a falling leaf
~
ablaze in autumn
the yellow leaves know
how to burn
~
blast of wind
the last leaves blow away
leave me barren
~
tell me when
leaves fall and
your heart grieves
I will crush them
under my feet and
turn them into mulch
© Neetu Malik
She wraps her child
in the old, soft mantle
though the child is
grown into a woman
she has raised
with gentle hands
and tender affection
her daughter shivers
as chill pierces through
holes in the aged fabric
a mother’s excuses
no longer explain
how they came to be
in the first place
through the tight weave
that could never rip.
© Neetu Malik
soft murmurs in the dark
don’t enlighten me
they leave me fumbling
for something real to grasp
let whispers fade
with the light from stars
be silent until
day breaks and I can
see in your eyes
the words that spill
from your heart
(c) Neetu Malik
The marbles roll
on a patch of dirt–
colored transparencies
shine in the afternoon sun.
She watches carefully;
her big brown eyes
roll with the little marbles
deft fingers on small brown hands
shoot each marble toward the hole
in the center of a circle–
there is hope
of winning
whereas
in the square room
that sits unevenly
under a metal roof—her home
built to stand
but sure to fall
under the monsoon rain dance–
one can only lose,
without a chance.
© Neetu Malik
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