I read the news, see gulmohurs cascade
their blossoms in a glorious spring red
I brew the coffee, I remake the bed
in the same half-hearted half-latte shade.
Spring repeats, the sheets of petals fallagain and again but the colours remain true
and here inside there is also nothing new
the usual violence, and the winner takes all.
I watch the news, see untold lives cascadeaway in inflorescences of shocking red
I brew the coffee, and they count their dead
and that’s how nations, and my news, is made.
Let’s not talk about rights and righteousness.Do you want your coffee with more sugar or less?