Shiver


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In this punishing cold
I warm up to the idea of you-
A red scarf on my head
A breath of mist on my lips.
It is this same breath
I take in, I give out
To keep the shivers within
My trembling spine.
I see human crowds huddled
A warmth to the overexposed ground.
Rain falls and falls-
My scarf becomes me, my skin
I become the one
Listening to not just humans
But nature converse in its own literature-
A storm, a festival, a celebration.
Later in the night,
When I am warm from amber
I feel your eyes
And I warm further-
Somewhere in crowds
Somewhere in a strange city-
I accepted the idea
Of me belonging with different people
And different people belonging with me.
A bonfire and a wind
A scarf and some red
In pink lanes
Of literature, speakers, orange flowers
And homely strange people.

~insight07

Copyright ©Devika Todi. All rights reserved.

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4 Comments

  1. Timothy Price says:

    Wonderful photo. I really like these lines

    “My scarf becomes me, my skin
    I become the one
    Listening to not just humans
    But nature converse in its own literature-
    A storm, a festival, a celebration.”

    Brilliant!

    Like

    1. insight07 says:

      Thank you, Timothy! I had been in a literature festival at the point when I had written this and I still remember the moment. Once the storm started I left the seminar hall and stood for a long time just gazing at nature.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Timothy Price says:

        Sounds like a fantastic moment.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. insight07 says:

        Hahah it was 😋

        Liked by 1 person

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