Mother’s veins make the skies
Moss green stretching beyond
The clocks of magnolia’s blinks
Roots of the monk’s Prometheus
Beyond seasons of my nectar bird
In silk lap of moon’s hibiscus
In absence of the rotting wood
Without rains of ash clouds
Plastic letters delivered on time
The sun keeps fading: my news
Without my news, my kneeling
On the empty ground of church
Vaishali Paliwal
