Eventide

M Minakshi Devi
Beneath the sky,at time of dusk,
Darkness creeps in,fading light like drawing curtain at end of a play,
On the Indian plain and mountain range,
I heard amongst the solitary hills,
A sound of softly wheezing nature and fragrance of evening primrose.
I kindle a lantern and walk my way down the secret alley,
My eyes perceive the trees,the shadow shrouded sleepy trees.
Glimpsing reflection of stars in puddle,of unplumbed twilight.
The whipporwool sounds echoes in the pellucid air,
Fluttering along the star edges of indigo dusk.
The slithering darkness freezes my heart,eerie and cold.
The hills seem muted like one in an eternal sleep,
Of vague desire,vague memories and forgotten pain.
My shapeless mood roam across the dark sky,
Final hours of a long suspended day,the night will be serene and inanimate;
Where I succumb to oblivion of a turbulent tomorrow.