Quarks of Winter
I
A bramble of bones
in scraped tweed,
the beggar blotted in
misty underbridge,
breathing polluted air
of thumping footfalls,
wrecked by ghostly cold,
dreaming a quilt to curl up,
few peanuts' kind feed.
II
Winter is a muse,
a subtle excuse for
qahwa-filled samovar
to be poured into
gold-rimmed cups
tactile in fingers
ensconced in pashmina
shawls beside fireplace
meditating on snowfall.
III
Wretched shacks shiver
aside drab, dismal road
housing jaded drift of
masonry labourers
crouching close to hearth
for needs minus amenities,
to melt in loads of mortar
binding brick by brick
a stranger’s dream abode.
IV
Wafts of winter benumb
Sun by freezing darts,
bright flowerbeds invoke
flamboyant swerving kites
to scale heavens upto last,
Pealing bells of temple
besotted me at dusk
healing mind with light
dappling dormant heart.
Footnote: Every season has a spectrum reflecting different colours of light for diverse range of people.
Qahwa is a type of aromatic spiced green tea having its roots in Kashmir, though relished throughout India and many other countries. Samovar is a special container used for preparing the delicacy. Pashmina is a fine quality wool especially famed for weaving intricately patterned jamavar shawls.
These poems are knitted around winter season in response to the Saturday Prompt “Series Potential” by J.D. Harms .
Era Garg January 2021
