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