Evocations

Midnight
the rain falling
trickling desolately on pandanus leaves
rapping on zinc roofs
like Vanilla Ice.

Dreams
dealing with another,
a mist swirling in the dark
tapping on the mind
like steel fingers

Morning
brings with it a watery sun
a grey dawn and muddied roads
chasing the day
like petals opening.

Working
half the mind elsewhere
a foggy brain groping
for sunlight
like elusive shadows.

The day is almost gone...
and all around
tiny spears of green
shoots out
from the rich brown earth.

(K.Tahir Khan, 1996)