friday thoughts -winter in singapore

FRIDAY MORN
they say seasons never change in singapore
but that morning, it was winter in my neighbourhood.
above me, the sky snowed yellow petals.
the grass, the drains, the roads were buttered liberally with raintree buds.
yellow as taxis, as crayons, as the doubled lines that snaked down the street.
the wind sent down drift after drift of gold
a road-sweeper paused to look at the sight,
the swash and backswash of her bamboo broom stopping momentarily.
she smiled at me and i returned the gracious gesture.
they say seasons never change in singapore
but just for that morning, we both knew better.