Last week, they were open-throated and
singing in violet, harmonic with bee wings’
low drone and soft hum, delicate anthers,
filaments, stamens, moving pollen to melody.
This week, they are papery silver, desiccated
from heat. Silent. The pollinators have moved on.
Yet sunlight remains—white with optimism,
tending to the ruins of their song,
as if the half-death of beauty is still
something worth shining upon.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 27, Issue 2.
Erika Seshadri lives in Lamy, NM. Her work has appeared in over forty publications. She is a 2025 Best of the Net nominee. Her first book, Himalayan Tsunami (Memoir; Austin Macauley Publishers; Erika & Niranjan Seshadri), won a 2024 BookFest Award and is currently being adapted for film.
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