Of the Colour Yellow | Poems By Simrita Dhir

Yellow Trumpet Flowers

This morning I slipped into a yellow dress

that smelled of distant things, 

and began thinking of yellow flowers—roses that grew 

in the neighbor’s yard every spring; 

sunflowers that bloomed 

along the rail tracks; 

canna lilies that a friend brought 

me for my birthday once; 

marigolds that refused to take root in my garden; 

buttercups that grew in clusters along a 

Punjabi farmer’s walnut orchard in Santa Clara Valley; 

chrysanthemums that gushed forth from a Chinese poem to drench my heart. 

Those were all fine yellow flowers,

but the most unforgettable were the trumpet flowers that grew 

by the last Mission that the Spaniards built in Sonoma,

along the Great California Road—their bright yellow petals testament to 

raised flags and fallen lives. 

California, you are triumphant and tragic, your stories many and beautiful 

like those outrageous yellow trumpet flowers. 

Yellow Birds on Magnolia

Yellow birds swing on the magnolia 

I’m not sure if they’re goldfinches or warblers 

I ask the guys if they know what those birds are called

They say neither do they know, and nor do they care

I think of the birds in the old country—

Bulbuls, sparrows and robins in grandma’s mango tree 

Those birds were melodious but 

Yellow birds don’t bother with songs

They are achingly beautiful though 

Like frisky dreams

I hope aloud that they will always frolic on the magnolia

The guys wonder what really is the deal about

yellow birds and the magnolia 

I tell myself the deal is really, 

truly big. My immigrant mind seeks permanence 

For birds and trees to hitch together

I decide that I’ll knit the birds and the magnolia into a poem, 

Make their bond eternal.

Simrita Dhir lectures at the University of California, San Diego, and is the author of acclaimed novels The Rainbow Acres’ and ‘The Song of Distant Bulbuls.