Vrunda Shankara

There is...
Nothing....more poetic...
Than a...
Fully grown...
...

The afternoon is warm,
Sun is at its brightest,
The warm breeze,
Caress my skin.
...

In the dead silence....
Of the dark summer night...
A lilting ballad unfolds...
As little raindrops....
...

Deep into the night...
As I toss& turn...
Sleep seems to be distant...
My thoughts...
...

A Quiet summer morning,
Getting warmer by the day,
As I peep outside,
I see no song bird,
...

A hunch....
An intuition....
A suspicion...
A sense...
...

Life is like
Seasons....
Sometimes....
Windy...
...

Often.....
At dusk....
As sky gets darker...
As the birds fly back home....
...

On a hot day....
In month of May....
As a warm...
Wind blows...
...

From here
To there...
A pink blossom
A yellow blossom
...

White and fluffy...
Many dandelions..
Float in the
Noon skies
...

Miss bulbul...
Every morning..
A new tune...
She sings..
...

A deep darkness....
All so silent...
A darkness...where...
Even shadows are hesitant...
...

Her usual afternoon stroll...
On a cold December afternoon....
Listening to a pair of bulbuls...
She walked...lost in their songs..
...

And...
I shall have...
Some peace and warmth...
There on the terrace...
...

Her usual afternoon stroll…
On a cold November day..
Listening to a pair of bulbuls
She walked….
...

A gentle breeze is passing by
The coral tree is waking up
Her coral red blossoms
Sway …
...

As the April showers lash
A respite from the summer heat,
Now time for summer blossoms,
As if on cue,
...

As I sip....
My coffee..
Hear a chatter...
In my tiny...
...