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.
The bright green trees blurred as they passed my window. I could see them through my peripheral, guardians always there. I placed my finger in
Behind me, they await and I strain my neck trying to fit into the frame I shift back standing at an awkward angle, mouth a
Cinnamon, chillies, ginger, garlic, cilantro, country chicken, cloves meet for a slow dance. It’s the type of modern dance that makes me shiver. My insides