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Spring Solitude - A Renga

the formation of spring
those native wings of a butterfly

being called in
the aroma of kheer from somewhere

a soft light
on an old napkin
the initials that were put on

we talked for hours
the length of our stories stretching

sliding into
another loop of crochet
the spool reaches my feet


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Again the Sky

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.