Comments about Savita Tyagi
At the onslaught of winter stripped of their possessions trees stand in silent prayer.
Grey clouds hang low just above the black trees as if to kiss them goodbye
The milky white glow of moon creates a longing
Is it possible to reach out to unknown?
I get not answer in that cold and still night.
Flowers huddled together still spread their fragrance
Soon the merciless frost of winter will kill the bloom.
Gofers in my backyard have created mounds of dirt to settle deep in warm earth.