Yellow Beak

…Isn’t mine…isn’t her

Pecked, scattered into shreds

Her yellow beak

…orange …yellow

Blended with ripe mangoes

Myna, three birds on count

… three…joy

Volumes spoken, unintended

Television blared in the background

…Isn’t mine…isn’t her.

Copyright © 2017, Deeya Nayar-Nambiar




Golden showers of flowers

I count not the tiny petals;

Suspended layers of yellow

Sunshine filtered and sparkled;

I call out to my admiring heart

“Step not on the fallen yellow;”

Layers spread by teasing wind

Laburnum trees blossom; and blossomed

memories from yellowing frames.

Copyright © 2017, Deeya Nayar-Nambiar