Winter




Winter :



It smelt of new rains and of tender
Shoots of plants- and its warmth was the warmth
Of earth groping for roots... even my
Soul, I thought, must send its roots somewhere
And, I loved his body without shame,
On winter evenings as cold winds
Chuckled against the white window-panes.

[From Summer in Calcutta]


Kamala Das


Winter :






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