Madhumalti ~ it’s delicate blossoms merrily droop like bejewelled, bashful brides. Their heady perfume inspires poetry, inspires lyrics, inspires movement, inspires this breath. There is a beautiful crescent moon on the rise in the summer night sky.

I don’t know how things will be

Search your pockets and we will see

There may yet be more unfolding to do

It is laundry day you see

That sweet wrapper we stuffed just as the waves rolled up

That tissue our lips wiped clean

That coin we found behind the front wheel

All forgotten in pockets of time

You see it’s laundry day today 

Inside of me.