An Indian Summer, In The Heat And Dust Of It Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

The parching earth lies it baked and burning
During the whole noontime
And there is no respite from
Heat and summer,
The hot wind blowing,
Playing with the dry leaves,
Ruffling and playing
At some nook and corner.

Sweltering heat, no respite from
Intense heat,
Heat and humidity
And the sun scorching,
Blazing it hot,
People sweating,
Gasping for,
Sitting under the shade
Of a tree,
Passing the summer noon,
Hand-fanning himself.

The peepul and banyan trees
Shading them all,
The mango groves,
The orchard plots
Of the village areas,
But the towns and cities bereft of,
Living miserably,
Unable to beta the perspiring summer
And its scorching sun,
Heat and dust ruffling it all.

The bare earth lies it barren
With the cracks visible
And burning,
Man unable to walk on bare-footed,
The water bodies have almost dried down,
Somewhere the skulls can be seen
Lying on the sands
While passing through the village way
To reach the hamlet home.

Small children naked and unstable
Diving into the pools,
Buffaloes wallowing into the muddy ponds,
The herds of cattle,
Small-small breed cows with goats and sheep
Are returning before noontime,
Drinking water from the dried river.

But the summer is not devoid of greenery
As the trees with the new leaves
Keep glistening,
The gulmohurs can still be seen with blossoms,
Reddish-reddish and attractive
And clustered around,
Painting the scene and the landscape
And the cuckoos cooing from sweetly
with the notes breaking from
The bushes and trees.

The wafts and wisps of summer winds
After daylong burning
Appear to be soothing during the night-time
If slept under the open
And the scent of exotic jasmines
Keep luring
With the sweet scent scent of it,
The beli, malati, champa and so on.

But one should not forget it
That it is free from all,
The vipers keep crawling out of their holes,
The most venomous and poisonous ones,
Freckled and striped,
The cobras hiss they,
The scorpions do come out.