by Nitya Griffith | Oct 25, 2021 | Poetry
This golden light Falling through the windows Open to the wind. The garden echoes with invisible voices. Chairs positioned for conversations Covered in pine needles. Painting landscapes red and orange stained. Music pulses, a mood starts to rock In the chair next to...
by Nitya Griffith | Jun 28, 2021 | Poetry
The station wagon with faux wood paneling, The memory of sliding from the car seat down to the wild grasses, The size I was then, My feet already wincing at the briars and sharp hidden things Waiting for me to step down and run painfully for the river. Summer country...
by Nitya Griffith | Apr 27, 2021 | Poetry
It takes the setting aside of things, All that distracts and pulls us away from ourselves, To sit idle with a book and get lost in the narrative. Not that getting lost is a needful thing Or a requirement to something else, but more so that reading A book to the...
by Nitya Griffith | Dec 2, 2020 | Poetry
My language is laughter and lunacy for I see light play and I hear trees whisper to the birds, “Stitch me together in nests of twine and straw.” And the birds trill in response, “Gratitude for your strong arms and lullaby dance on gusted wind.” When I heard you speak,...
by Nitya Griffith | Apr 28, 2020 | Poetry
Being Spring The streets are empty. The air is full of the aroma of suppertime. My walk is a wandering, I know where I am going But there is no time anymore, It’s just now. So there is space to be aimless, And there is room to be mindless, Of course I mean that in the...
by Nitya Griffith | Oct 29, 2019 | Poetry
The call of the geese Breaks the morning silence Through the trees I see their winged formation Marking the sky with autumn Monarchs track their own migration fueled by milkweed I picked one up off the road Orange and black patterned paper Hummingbirds visit gardens A...
