An afternoon in the tropics

a glide
a chirp
the french manicured plume
of the white breasted
little bird
in the Burmese Days
of a sleepy mid afternoon
amid tea shops in Myaungmya
fluttering on its way to
finding Grorge Orwell in Burma

A daze and a doze on a winter afternoon

On the verge of dozing off in the warm sunshine on a winter afternoon amidst the flowers, the trees and the green green grass. A recurring cacophany of sounds from the main road prevents deep sleep in the lawn. Just as well. Still have the energy to open one eye slightly, each time an interesting sound catches the attention. A moment ago it was the ghungroos tied around the legs of a running camel. The perfect blend of tiny metal balls striking against the little brass buds. The eager pace of the camel showing off happily. If it had a voice, I can almost imagine it hum a tune as it runs.

A bus braked with a very jarring screech and we all looked at each other and almost laughed at the ugly sound. How would the poor camel brake I wondered, just before closing the eyes again. Our own Ghunghroo meantime is hiding from the sun. Maybe thanking his stars for the neem tree which hides the rays of the setting sun. The poor tree. So large and dense with its own particular brand of dark green. Shrugs its pod laden shoulders gently in the breeze - 'can't please everyone', it thinks, as it turns some of the leaves to savour the sun. And we all doze off once again. Us, the flowers, the trees and the green green grass. On this winter afternoon.