A Quiver Sliding Down the Ribs
A Quiver Sliding Down the Ribs
On a sunny summer Sunday evening,
With the breeze hushed to dead silence,
The rays of the dying sun glittering
On the tallest barks in the distant horizon,
Wearied of age-long books I treaded carefree
In search of freshness and quietude
Along a lonely path fringed with lovely trees.
Soon banks of clouds shrouded the sky,
A chilly breeze rustled among the trees,
Whistling amidst the leaves up high
And blowing with impunity apace;
It started to rain heavily and heavily
While darkness invaded the entire space;
Shivering, I tried to seek a shelter free,
But none of the tall trees offered a refuge;
I trudged along when I came across a verdant tree
With branches spreading like an umbrella;
I hastened thereto to seek relief
As under a decrepit veranda.
Not a human sound could meet the ear
Not a human sight could greet the eye,
Yet anon a strange breath pricked my hair with fear
And when I turned around, I felt like…
I felt like a quiver sliding down the ribs
At the ghastly sight of a skeleton white,
Standing erect by the side of the tree.
Written by Krishnanand Guptar
9 February 2023
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