Determined to ride out
A few more days of life
Intact, unbrowned, unspotted,
Vibrant as the spring day
On which they were born,
A miracle almost, survivors
Going against nature
In the inevitability of life's rhythm.
THE STUBBORN BOUGANVILLE
Now its June
And the rains have started.
The dry, arid earth soft
With water, life flowing
Back through its veins,
The plants pushing out
Eager to live, unaware
That the seasons will soon
Change again. The bouganvilles
Have cleared, except for one
Stubborn cluster of flowers,
That cling to the branch,
Unmoved by wind,
Unafraid of thunder,
Defiant at lightening,
The approaching monsoon
Doesn't scare them. They hug
To each other in a tight pink bunch,
