Elancharan இளஞ்சேரன்

head full of questions the starling too in doubt

dreamless sleep where have the voices gone to

i’ve said too much is it autumn yet

baby snake imagines itself as a coiled root unearthed and then an autumn twig and finally transforms into a locomotive slowly sliding across the tar into the dark belly of the undergrowth

park run at peace by the bulbul’s ballad

a query for the seasons: what’s it like being serene and blissed out all the time

system downtime a moment with my thoughts

wrestle this frail body from the grasp of waves

clears the brain fog morning drizzle

the soft face of the forest ignites