The Walk

By Yashwanth V

The dewy midnight sky is queerly quiet.

the silent sea is dark and soothes the winds;

flows through the muddle woods: in sudden gloom,

the pines and blue-gums rustle quite enough

to seize my gaze; but fall upon the path.

On the downpour wet mud, the moonlight gleams;

along with my dry eyes, the beings shines

and creeps inside: I hear the doleful songs

of my old peers; far-off, along this path.

But the chorus yells a tale: the lost sholas

with purple kurinji and waterfalls,

so far; my feet are strong, so I will walk.

By Yashwanth V