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In the ugliness
of concrete and tar
of greed and lies
of unforgiving city life
stands this silent
yogi of a tree.
It blossoms
in peak summer
in harshest weather
soaking in
punishing heat
emanating
cool, yellow shade.
Its blossoms’ brightness
fades every day
deepens every night.
And when
a gust of cool wind
loses its way
and blows into my room
the yogi tree
sends along
some leaves
some blossoms
– its own inspired poetry ….
A new blog, a new beginning.
New amaltas blossoms, bright yellow
Fading quickly in the May sun
I’ve heard,
in some places
on earth
summer is actually beautiful
not ruthful, or vengeful
not searing, or harsh-tongued
Is it true?
I have never seen it…
It seems odd to begin things in this heat. But so it is. A new beginning without reason, but with meaning. Something to live by in unforgiving circumstances. A quiet pool of beauty to immerse oneself in, on days when the hot dust-laden winds howl at my window and time dissolves into one eternal sweat-soaked moment.
Yes, some of us in the Third World have no air-conditioning. Just fans, and rabid moral policing. And yes, we used to have mangoes too to make these summers tolerable. Until this year when the Americans bought them all up.
Love to all, anyway…
