The leaves sizzle on the wind
dangling in crowds like kids on monkey bars.
They twinkle in the early evening sky:
stripes of green, yellow, brown.
I see them for the first time,
truly alive,
declaring silence and stillness in breathy whispers.
Masses of box-squared frames speed past;
their owners vacuumed into a throbbing cacophony.
But I,
I listen.
And it’s my first:
A silky premiere.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
Tilt my chin to the skies and envision your skies: mostly gray, maybe cloudy, framed by the pine greens and you— With your bright ass
In time you will see, all the tiny rocks that you collect in your pockets they won’t weigh you down, but instead will build you
Two vacations, both alike in dignity, In fair Springfield (where we lay our scene) From annual girls trips to surprising spouses, Where civilian illness and