You still remember the scent of crushed leaves basking in the mud, the sun choking out their water. The inviting aroma of dead leaves would anchor itself in the air of a hot, sunny day. It was the time of farewells and goodbyes, tears and nostalgia for a past that could not be undone. At […]Read More Dead Leaves
The Porqupine Stood in the middle of the road, Quills pointed in defence mode, He was going to write a novel, With my blood And his hundred quills. The twilight twisted slowly into night, And I stepped back Out of respect For he looked like a native American chief With his white and black spears […]Read More The Chief
You’re still a fly.Read More Fly.
The cyclone ravaged the city
With raging recklessness,Read More Coconut Tree.
Raped by the catastrophic cyclone
The carnage of trees
Lie like irregular pickets..Read More Flameback.
Puny claws locked in metal holes
Basking in the shadeRead More The Sunbird.
Across other leaves
Who quiver in inconsistent synchronyRead More Warbler leaf.
A slow and slippery ascent
Through its wooden roads
And winding veins of timber.Read More Silentree
If a tree were to shed
A dead branch
Of a substantial size,Read More Branching out to God