El Niño, I call that terrible forecast
But then again Indian summers begin early
Like all things, El Indian tosses it off to do its thing
I admit the wind is beautiful, a hint of coolness
But the sun decides it won't be without attention
My clothes are hung out to dry in my balcony
As I look at the mango trees in the distance
Those mango florets have not yet started to appear
It is supposed to around February, I wanted them early
Sometimes a drizzle in March ruins them, rots them
Oh heavens! Please don't do that this year too
It is almost high noon, of this winter summer interleave
I am reminded that poetry won't work as food right now
I need to walk into the kitchen, cook something
I will make tea too, then eat and watch the noon fade
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