The time when unknown treesmuscle their way into top-of-mind
I dream of chinars*
flaming in the high winds
and a fast narrow stream somewhere
slowing down inch by cooling inch
it’s a separate matter that I’ve
never been to Kashmir
or anywhere in the high
the leaf-loss season.
I forget anniversariesof minor events
each event flames once
red trajectories cut and dried
sun-crinkled on the grey sidewalk.
Time runs out a little faster than before.
*Oriental plane, maple like leaves.