Presence 82

sudden dusk
steals the last daylight …
a fisherman
gathering the fog
into his net

—David He


hard to imagine
in the ripe-berried
heat
sunflowers bent
by sudden hail

—Alan Peat


bare branches
reflected in the canal –
I think of how
we speak less now
but mean more

—Nalini Shetty

*

refugee
stomach fur on her teddy bear
worn thin

—Bill Cooper


moonlit tryst
popping the question
by the rhubarb sheds

—Phillip Murrell


sunlit stream
a swan feather floats
with the willow leaves

—Paula Sears


always the last one picked wild daisy

—Anne Fox


wind gust
the back door throws
a sudden tantrum

—Madhuri Pillai


cooling under a bridge
teenagers from both sides
of the tracks

—Randy Brooks

*

Pot Pourri

There is a special dinner at the mess tonight to celebrate twenty-five years of the college’s existence. The aroma of dishes mingles freely with the composite sound of conversations. An old student who is visiting says that the variety at the counter has decreased since his time. A freshman chuckles at the irony of bland food in the land of spices. A professor declares that students should receive larger portions; the boys and girls sitting with her bang their table in unison. Elsewhere in the dining hall, a senior student, sitting alone, picks at her food. As for the grey-haired man at the counter, he wipes his forehead with a light blue handkerchief that has become brown, before ladling the pilaf and chutney onto another student’s plate.

starlit night
a farmer sighs
to the sea

—Srini