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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 10, Number 4, December 2016

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Paresh Tiwari
Maharashtra, India


The songbirds . . .

. . . are out to feed and sing. To my untrained ear it's cacophony, albeit a pleasing one. To her it means something much more. Velvet-fronted nuthatch, black-naped monarch, white-bellied erpornis, she ticks off the names on her fingers.

"Perhaps you can live here, when I'm gone," she says, "and write poems about love."

Although I am unable to leave the smog-filled vertical confines of the city to live on the edge of the river, I do write. Sometimes about her. And then bury those poems deep in the loose soil of my backyard.

night express
a raindrop's journey
on the glass pane

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