When it's long past the hour of the pink sky,

the shade of gray
is riding over,
mutating into a memory,
this is the hour and the place to sit down and read
the wild card that changes the game of life.
The strong sketch in a charcoal drawing
lingering before the eye.
The tentative choice of pastels,
the subliminal thought
disturbing, strangely out of place
vaguely spreading
over the land and the sky.
Do the trees sometimes need this space?
Silence, half light, residual dark,
the stubbornness of the charcoal drawing
The hour of suspension
Knowing this precarious hour will not last.
Tomorrow will be another day.
Sushama Karnik.
,
s
Sushama Karnik.
May be art of 1 person, tree and nature

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