At Dusk

The song
of winter’s moths

comes to us
like children laughing

in their sleep.

Pilgrimage

A lark soars
into the mist of
an autumn night.

There is no way of
knowing where she
is headed.

Departure

Dusk
softens our hands

from which
birds have long

flown.

In Spring

My mother’s voice
wafts to me like
a wounded flower—

its incense tendered
by the memory of love.

Sonata

A cicada mumbles of love
among autumn’s leaves.

There is a tenderness to
all she does not say.

Sonata II

Autumn’s winds
stir the maple under

whose shadow
a lone dog breathed

his last.

Nocturne

How softly
you touch me.

Like dusk
bending down

to smell the sorrow
of autumn’s leaves.

In Autumn

The fragrance
of Kadamba flowers

fills the path
on which I have lost

my way.

Echo

Of the tree
I planted as a child,

only a blackbird’s
waning song remains.

Trivarna Hariharan is a student of English Literature from India. She has authored The Necessity of Geography (Flutter Press), Home and Other Places (Nivasini Publishers), Letters I Never Sent (Writers Workshop, Kolkata). Her writing appears or is forthcoming in Right Hand Pointing, Third Wednesday, Otoliths, Peacock Journal, One Sentence Poems, Birds Piled Loosely, TXTOBJX, Front Porch Review, Eunoia Review, and others.

In October 2017, Calamus Journal nominated her poem for a Pushcart Prize. She has served as the editor-in-chief at Inklette, and is the poetry editor for Corner Club Press. Besides writing, she is learning the keyboard, and has completed her fourth grade in the instrument at Trinity College of Music, London.