Evening, Winter
by Bibhu Padhi (May 2015)
Between day and night
the sky is softening.
The earth is softening too, as if
a river of dusky, translucent water
had washed it all over.
Bird-calls stroke the hills.
In the kitchen, water drips
from the brass taps
and falls on the floor.
The blowing of conch-shells
invites a quiet night,
free of uninvited guests.
Someone waits to live
through the earth’s last sounds
even as the moon rises late.
___________________________
He lives with his family in Bhubaneswar, India.
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