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Winter Sun

Winter Sun

Somedays, I go for solitary morning walks wrapped in my shawl.
The winter garden is faded with fog
and the wind among the branches
of the wayside trees is solemn and still.

I slip out of my kolhapuris 
and walk barefoot on the dew-bathed grass.
Cold slowly starts to seep into me,
making me one with the wintry earth.

High on the trees, some birds begin to sing.  
I take a deep breath and exhale,
the evidence of being alive comes out of my mouth
as a visual breath, like a cloud. 
WAtaday! - from an upcycled doll!

WAtaday! - from an upcycled doll!

  WAtaday to be alive?! I mean that in a happppyyy sad way. There’s just so much going on in the world and it’s hard to decide which battle to...
Dipna Daryanani