NEW WINTER

by Shikhandin

I have grown unused to this

tightening of skin,

peeling of husk from heel

seasonal birds look at me strangely

for I do not remember

the shiver in their songs

I do not remember

sleet stung leaves, now

a quiver of rain jabs

and the pain in my joints

becomes

an extra limb that I must carry

like a cross. No more slapping

of wet hair between braided towel

the scent of lavender fading

from old woolens shaken from disuse

no more scent of tomatoes

ripening in the sun,

soil loosened to receive

new seeds. No more

of all that now, for suddenly

a lopsided carol announces Christmas

and plastic trees stand, proud

sentinels of the season,

when I only ventured out

to buy lip balm

  

* * * * *

"New Winter" was first published in Crannóg, Ireland.

Shikhandin is the nom de plume of an award-winning Indian writer, who writes for both adults and children. Books include among others, Immoderate Men: Stories published by Speaking Tiger, India and Vibhuti Cat an illustrated book for children, published by Duckbill. For more on Shikhandin you can visit her Amazon page: https://www.amazon.com/author/shikhandin and her Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorShikhandin/