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Selection 12 of

BR Hills: An Opus

by Sunita Fernandes

The silver-blue sky spreads over
Indigo hills that reach into high misty oblivion.
In the stark stillness of the night, leaves
Drip rainwater into the already soggy forest
Floor. The low hum of the bumblebee
Rises and falls; its wings slapping against the tent.
Black trees loom like corrugated
Monsters of the darkness,
Leaves entwined in a delicate, filigreed
Cluster against the plate-like
Bone china moon.

Frogs and toads, crickets and cicadas,
Create Surround Sound nighttime symphony.
A queue of flickering fireflies
Play now-you-see-me-now-you-don't
As they move through the earth-scented air; they are the
Forest's winged torchlights.

Nature's very own sound and light show.
For free.

A whirlpool of thoughts spiral through my
Mind; thoughts that expand exponentially
Into memories that soak my being. Journeys
Of past Lives; millennia of existence.

The spirit yearns to offer flowers at the altar.
I have to yet reach my Temple.

Selection 12 of


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Copyright © 2001 by Sunita Fernandes. All rights reserved.