Love / Poetry / Poets

Au Contraire by Mamta Madhavan

Au Contraire

Teak wood flowers, snow drops
cluster on every branch,
small fragrant ones;
a blizzard without a warning
on a November morning,
it’s as if winter set in early.
They left shadows and
the leaves crocheted ;
a white haze on the hills,
spring time, summer time,
refusing to let winter in.

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