Then autumn refigured in happier breaths distill’d,
In vial passages summer hath once kiss’d,
The season’s gentle treasure of leaves fill’d,
And hath not left lands with bare winter caress’d:
‘gainst roots that ‘neath the soil grow;
The autumn wind utter’d to mine frame:
The riper crops doth bred everywhere but slow,
For without thee ’tis not the same.
Whilst my poor lips thy touch await,
The golden boughs partially still remain,
Since the harvest hath not yet set a date;
The hours must this inward vacancy drain.
For in thee my life, my breath, every dream,
Doth shine brighter than e’en the sun’s gold beam.
Found in folds of crepe textured history, Sneha Subramanian Kanta finds resonance with the avant-garde and dispossessed. She is a GREAT scholarship awardee and pursuing her second postgraduate degree in England. Her award winning poem 'At Dusk with the Gods' won the Alfaaz (Kalaage) prize. Her work is forthcoming in Dialog Journal, Brickplight, W.I.S.H. Press and Dying Dahlia Review. She has also been featured in international literary anthologies such as The Dance of the Peacock (Hidden Brook Press, Canada) and Peacock Journal's first print anthology published by Little Red Tree Publishing and elsewhere.