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.
Walk me through
your cave
show me the petroglyphs
the stories
you have laboriously pecked on the walls
with your hammer stone,
carved in the light of a lantern
where shadows cast gloom.
I am but dust
a grain of sand
blowing whichever way
the wind blows
in the universe
You were the guest at my table picking on the corners of the table cloth, fingers nervously folding and unfolding mutilated pride.
Neetu Malik’s poetry is an expression of life’s rhythms and the beat of the human spirit. She draws upon diverse multicultural experiences and observations across three continents in which she has lived.
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Hi Neetu, Love this poem! Time to water my perennials.
Thank you so much, Veronica. The ground has been pretty damp around here, but yes, go ahead and water those perennials!