the rain at last: a different kind of song
Tag: freedom
death’s old scythe catches the morning light
through the evening mist slower than your slowest thought
old garden path smells sweeter when walked at twilight
tide call: grey waters rise as limbs raise sails
the old country road swells with pride as wildflowers take over
thousands of little rituals disguised as kindness
not a single word: beetle beneath the stone deserves to keep its secret
a border imagined: summer hands over the keys to autumn
just barely: the rain at midnoon quiets the fires of chaos
elancharan gunasekaran 