
I drop pebbles slowly
watch them fall
in a shallow stream
it runs cloudy
under such a pristine sky—
they ripple
and disappear
from my eye—
but I know
they lie trapped
in murky debris
that rained down
from angry clouds
© Neetu Malik

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
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