Winters

When a new silence entombs

the beats of heart; brain commences

the guarding of breaths

I know winters are coming.

The roly poly flowers of Chrysanthemum,

their tummies pregnant with nectar

The top shaped turnips bi colored with

penis-shaped radishes and carrots

peeled and chopped for seasonal pickles

seasoned with pungency of carom and sourness

of sun

in those glass jars; sun-worshiping

the sun rises late in the sky blushing

like an adolescent girl in front of

her prospective husband.

The winters donate more time

to feel the throbbing of the past

and things that can’t be undone

with longer nights and shorter days.