the frail body prepares itself for the coming days of quietude
magic is watching and experiencing the arrival of this autumn evening
morals and laurels of man indefinitely shaped by the weather and seasons
the march begins at a wild beast’s pace and ends with a serpent’s tail slithering over the concrete bridge
grass cradles feet and softens each tired step as the trees bend over to whisper and push this body forward
the autumn moon counts nights not identities: you are loved
unhurried and gentle humming as the frail body gets into the rhythm of holiday chores
autumn after the rain grey walls give way to the smell of secrets
bodies travelling ancient war trenches smell of earthen dirt and unfinished blessings
the way the autumn mist settles in the fields and in our bones without apology
elancharan gunasekaran 