This poem is about Haflong-the place where I grew up.
Gossamer mist/float like whispers/over the big lake/and you wake up /to fairyland.
Where is the vibrant/blue of the hills,/the verdure of the landscape...?/Like a painting /of still life,/the town lies,/serene,surreal./Then slowly/ but surely/the smells take over./
Woodsmoke/ and roasted peanuts,/oranges and/smoked meat,/the warmth of crackling fires..../
It's autumn/in the hills/again!
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