Foreboding
she reaches out
touches fog
she had hoped
for the sun
to slip its silky warmth
over her cold skin
withered and splitting
like the bark of a tree
not used to early frost
summer has not yet
run its course, she whispers
as she exhales a misty breath
it is too soon for woodpeckers
in the woods, the air is dense
besides a lone goldfinch
she might be the only witness
to the end
© Neetu Malik
Some of Neetu’s Books
-
I wait eagerly
for absolute darkness
to lose my shadow -
I drop pebbles slowly
watch them fall
in a shallow stream -
she reaches out
touches fog
she had hoped
for the sun -
Walk me through
your caveshow 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
Featured Books
BRUISED SPIRITS
It's 1924 and Daisy Gumm bands with friends to help Lily Bannister, whose abusive husband nearly killed her.
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DAY OF THE DARK
A recipe for disaster: take one total solar eclipse, add two dozen spine-chilling mysteries, and shake the reader until the world ends in Day of the Dark!
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The Pacific breezes blow many things in from the ocean, this time its power, greed, and murder.
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Exquisite, as always!
That is very kind of you to say, Veronica. Thank you so much.