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All the Pansies

The nature of human is to hold on to what is essential. "Terracotta pots, Madam" said a potter by a road as I was inquiring about pots made of earth. I wanted simple ones. 

My home is basic, taking up a single person and holding her world. I imagine pansies, ball lily, valerians, begonias; all those flowers which are hardly used in bouquets or party decorations or even garlands to be offered to God in temple or to dignitaries at functions.  

on the speckled petals
in dust of a day
alighting butterfly


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First published on Literary journal.

Today showered again the sky I wondered if soaking the streets I choose to ignore.
Small leaves sprout and crawl inside me, branches spread out, straws are collected nests are created.
Lone pathway on feet speck of air or earth so full, and my own heart's silence in this moment's time.

Time Lapse

There is nothing
or there is not

there is ray and
warmth of it for long to stay

I hear shriveling words

in autumn and cold

when the Sun sets

some grass is burnt
at edge of horizon.