Ode to Palash flowers

With the passage of time

and circumstance,

I have become an immigrant—

now living in

El Dorado California,

far away from

my native land

I have made this place

my home,

trying to bloom here.

But when spring arrives,

I feel nostalgic.

I think of the woodland

at the edge of paddy fields

near my village.

It must be ablaze

with neon-orange clusters

of palash flowers.

They carry no fragrance,

yet the spectacle

is mesmerizing.

You can’t help

but be enchanted.

Parrots must be feeding on them,

below, cattle and goats grazing.

We used to collect the flowers

to make colors for Holi.

They were a part

of my joyful childhood—

in bucolic India

It still bring warmth

and stirs nostalgia.

As a tribute to it

I made this watercolor art.