A Tryst With An Indian Summer Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

A summer of blazing hot,
Fire flames singing the face,
The earth lying parched and dry,
No rains,
With a cry for water, water, water all around.

Burnt earth, barren and sterile,
The blazing sun of summer
Burning it all,
Scorching and singing
With a rise in temperature.

People daring not step outside
And even if they
Covering the faces
With a piece of cloth
As the the loo blowing it hard,
Playing with heat, dust and temperature.

The hot summer sun blazing it hot
On the hamlets and thorps,
But the blackly still cooing
From the glistening leaves,
The jasmines blooming beautifully
And the fragrance we can during the night-time.