fog like writing returns to the tender page at dawn
Tag: monostich
a slow consuming wildfire of grey spreads from chin to cheek waging a war i might never win
what is left of summer is gathered and placed at the foot of the mango tree: to be devoured
the pearl grey fog lifts and the moon reveals her darkest side
silver outlines each blade of grass in the dark before dawn
to do: a bonfire vigil by the coast when autumn properly arrives
birdsong from fields too distant to hear return as gentle dreams
kindness repeated over generations make the best kind of folklore
a softness the calendar cannot explain: the first breeze of september
the old pond guards a secret spot just for dragonflies to spit their fire
elancharan gunasekaran 