A Shrine in the High Alps

A Shrine in the High Alps

Here water falls over ancient stones
As through the seasons the music changes
Now in autumn the notes reach a crescendo
The winds and storms howl through the village
Rushes whisper the familiar prayers
Gathered from pilgrims through the centuries.
Patches of yellow dandelions gleam
Like offerings left from ages past
Pale buds peep from their leafy sanctuaries
A bunch of tiny violets lies at the Madonna’s feet
A child’s tribute on the way to school
Now at noon old women sit chattering
A row of black birds, shawls fluttering in the wind
A place of stillness in the dusk
As the world spins around it.

Author: Sarah Das Gupta

Photo: Jon on Unsplash