A sundry rainy Monday morning
I wake up to find the faded sun
Some yellow has dropped into dahlias
And some on the leaves of a tall Ashok tree
The earth looks a pudgy chocolate brown though
Titillating gentle wind flows like a bride’s train
Softly, making no sound
Something smells delicious somewhere
I am standing with the door half open
Talking to an idea that has arrived like a persuading salesman
And won’t go away
As I start to step into the pluvial garden
I suddenly remember I hate getting wet in the rain
For all the hours I spend writing everything lest memory fails
Sometimes I wish I forget some little details