1.
Swirls of golden smoke rose slowly from my blazing coffee pot. The dusty car at a distance slithered and crawled up the winding road. Sitting in the shack I watched the sand snaking its way up, keeping pace with the car and pelting it with sand particles as if it held a grudge against the driver. I had planned to go dune bashing but for the ominous tone of the desert.
2.
The next day morning remnants of what the desert spat out, the sand particles consume me. I am cloaked with gloves of voluminous dust. I take another sip of coffee. The pungent aroma of the milieu and coffee leaves me breathless. The greens are choked and there is sand art on pavements outside.
3.
I try to remove the sand on my hair as I wipe the aurulent sheen on the window pane. A bunch of men wipe the dust from the tables and chairs in the opposite shack. An old dusty car crawls to a halt and parks, blaring the music of Led Zepplin.
Copyright © 2013 by Mamta Madhavan- All rights reserved
low tide
first breath of sunset
on the gull’s wings
Copyright © 2020 by Mamta Madhavan- All rights reserved
Ibis
the flight
that never took off
Copyright © 2020 by Mamta Madhavan- All rights reserved
rainbow flakes
every house in the village
painted new
Copyright © 2019 by Mamta Madhavan- All rights reserved
wobbly legs
the scarecrow in the yard
stands stronger
Copyright © 2019 by Mamta Madhavan- All rights reserved
November frost
a train chugs
into winter
Copyright © 2019 by Mamta Madhavan- All rights reserved