parched air

On ripening of time, lush shrubs lipping ochre bark of perennials have vanished in the thin air. Perhaps somewhere biding their time, anticipating the frolicsome squelch of little galoshes during salubrious times. Leaves ranging from golden amber to tawny and deep brown colours have embarked on their next journey, ceding to the mystical inner quest. What lies ahead of quietus? Apparently, this old fogey perching morosely on top of the bench is ruminating over life’s perfidy. Solitary, brittle and adamantly unmoving.

Modest loam
Hoards seeds of
Lush
morn


My first attempt at Haibun goes to #Haikai challenge hosted by Frank J. Tassone and Eugi’s Weekly Prompt ‘Mystical’.

Published by Smita Ray

I hail from the northeastern town of India Gorakhpur. My perpetual displeasure arose from the hypocrisy in the society underneath the semblance of religion, culture. The conditioning for compliance urged me to put down the impressions in my mind. A few years ago I took to blogging in a language I was yet to make my own. I was fortunate enough to have my pieces published on websites like Spillwords, Quiver Review, Elephant Journal, and anthologies published under Indie Blue Publishing, Spectrum of thoughts, Flairs and Glairs. I believe I am a work in progress.

7 thoughts on “parched air

  1. Amazing, brilliantly penned. The picture, perfect, depicting old age, lost and forgotten. I must admit, I had to look up some words in the dictionary.

    Liked by 1 person

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