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

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

Published by Smita Ray

Smita Ray is a mother of two lovely kids and hails from the northeastern town of India Gorakhpur. Her perpetual displeasure arising from the hypocrisy in the society underneath the semblance of religion, culture as well as the conditioning for compliance urged her to put down the impressions in her mind. In her spare time, she likes to have some culinary adventures with her kids.

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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