There were some wild women walking in a forest. One stopped to smell the roses. One stopped to hug a tree. One scratched the lichens. She wanted to make some ink. They hummed, spoke as their voices echoed through stone circles. Their footsteps reverberated through the forest like cicadas. The leaves crushed under their feet like mortar grating berries to make medicine. They walked and talked in symphonies. They spotted flowers and trees and called them their names. Golden But

the round moon calls to me a bowl of milk payasam, spread with dried rice balls sprinkled with cashew chilled and reheated with abundant milk from the previous night it fills my belly and satisfies my tongue the moon calls out to me my eyes, my eyes cannot believe the sight of a glowing silver ball it keeps me awake days pass and i am hungry for another full moon but the more i yearn, the more shy it becomes i stop seeing the sky, in fear of a waning moon not at its fullest g

sunrise counts only when the sun rises above concrete horizons it makes you wait like a baby yearning for its mother's milk sometimes for half an hour as you stare through the dusty window panes across clotheslines and drying clothes impatiently the sun is here the birds exclaim you close your eyes at the first sight of a round ball made of light taking it in through the screen of your eyelids healing the way you see the world ----S

A flower made out of flowers a rose inside of a rose a day of flowers and roses of books and kisses awkward hugs and sideward glances a dimple on the cheek, a mole on the forehead a crooked nose, an uneven jaw plentiful teeth that morph into two smiles orderly and unorderly questions are asked and answered none an arm's distance, a safe length closing doors and a train's ride a momentary pause, while thoughts collide walking from dawn until dusk and when night falls a day of

Is spring really here i hear the birds tweeting screeching behind worms in delight the trees bristling boldly flowers lay carpeted across grass the sun glistens over untainted waters kissing the shores ever so gently fruit laden trees bear heavy secrets waiting to ripen and burst forth into the air the mountains are shying away from the sun hiding within the clouds spring is shy, this time around ----S