homemade potpourri

homemade potpourri

of birthday roses and spices

writing poetry without words

writing poetry without words

sitting with a little basket of these flowers
weaving them into a garland
to be hung by the window
and filling our nest with their divine perfume.

a new everyday ritual.

botanical verse n°3

botanical verse  n°3

gathered
from the hillside, outside our home

memory
sunshiny morning
meeting rain-washed flora and fauna
a day soaked with slowness

. . .

sunday mid morning
the twenty sixth
jyeṣṭha

botanical verse n°2

botanical verse  n°2

gathered
from the hillside, outside our home

memory
a very humid morning
weeping milky sap
saanjh by my side, excitedly collecting fallen flora from the ground

. . .

sunday, mid morning
the fifteenth
vaiśākha  

botanical verses N°1

botanical verse  n°1

gathered
from our first ride into the hills, outside our home

memory
chirping sparrows
slender thorny branches
powdery yellow flower-dust


. . .

sunday, mid morning
the seventeenth
chaitra