The Gristmill

Whether the shadow of your face Or the stripes of grace on the leaves Whether the water and soil In turmoil to sprout and bloom out Releasing the stress of the bones Into the cones of the buds All I collect In the micro baskets The moment I get a racket And you gladly connect with me The game starts with thrill Smilingly cooperates the grist mill Churning the colours Burning the impurities Unlocking the keys Bending the journeys Grinding the thesis Breaking the antithesis And look Beautifully emerging The subtle synthesis From nowhere they appear The humming bees For the poetry For example Beneath my skull Just the other day The sun of Shillong Its kisses on the hill slopes Your mouth washing soap on the wash basin The children They run in the school playground The astounding hill peaks Seeking to pierce the swollen pink clouds The tall trees like taller women Shedding shadows on the tea garden The day labourer clearing the tea roots The plastics strewn thanks to the brutes The grist mill felt aroused Everything it espoused And the processing started The flour? From the cuddling hills Down to the green oak shadow Life with peace and strife ______________________________________ June 5, 2018 For The Gristmill Poetry Contest sponsored by Craig Cornish Note: Considering the short and shorter lines, the violation of 20 line limit might be condoned. Submitted with this expectation.