Hibiscus hibernates
between umbrae
of lamps
that are her eyes,

and I am elated
that all is well
in the pale winter sun.

Comfort
is unevenly paved
like a cocooned cactus
beneath my park bench,

I am secure
in my effort
to rise once more
from ashes,

"Mr. Phoenix,
tomorrow, I promise,
I will clean out my ash-tray,"

today, it is time
to search for ticks incessant, in their devastation
of geriatric pets.


Ashok Niyogi


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