MORNING MIMOSA
drops of night dew still dreaming
of missing rainbows
on mimosa’s morning face ;
a wind resting on tired elbows
during its gentle address ;
red casurina in deep wounds
after wild plucks of bunches
from its already clipped branches ;
and the patient koel singing 
to heal their raw wounds
in frequent pauses ,
and when leaves of
the firm banyan boughs
under the shade of a Shiva temple
ever so happily dance ,
there is enough here
for my heart to romance
with no care about the faint smell
of smokes from a distant pyre
knocking the doors of nostrils
from some near distance.

Copyright : saroj k. padhi