spring, did you say?

it's an hour until lunch. three quarters of an hour actually

but then it's all the same when you're hungry

it's hot outside

hot even though it’s breezy

the clouds will appear by afternoon

like they do everyday going slightly grey

as the day progresses and then disappear

during the night without a trace

as a bright new day blazes you awake

most trees have shed their leaves and the dry

dusty ground is littered with these

but the peepal is sprouting fresh green ones already

the hotter it gets, the softer, more transparently fragile

the leaves that the wretch sprouts, dad would say. or was it mum?

i get confused

the shadows of the dried leaves still on the trees flutter listlessly
and the bougainvillea stalks nod in the breeze

even the sunlight looks dusty on the walls

though the copper-pod is still green

and the tabebuia is in flower

leafless, pink

there are newspaper reports of tubewells
running dry and water problems

close by, i think

it's half an hour until lunch. five minutes more than half an hour actually

but then it's all the same when you're hungry. what's the similarity

between hunger pangs and outbursts of poetry?

they come in bouts

it's half an hour until lunch. exactly

and i'm too distracted

to write