Dustbeams

Sayani Mukherjee

I am at a wildflower’s edge
Memories sprung open
Beside a widowed lounge
A paper plane flung open
At eternity’s edge
Dried moringas at my feet
For the twopence wildflowers sang
The vicious moonbeam’s shadow
It fell over
My bemused mornings
Flying kites at the shore
Thus, to be alive
To inhale the speckled dustbeams.