Dog Days Poem by Prabhakar Subramaniam

The day seems ominous
When you bury your wet face
In the towel smelling of the sun;
The neem is coming back
From its fall
When it was stripped to the bone - -
Now, it is a fount of green
With a smattering of flowers
Still undecided on what to be
Yellow or green or both
We know what shade
Their bitter fruit will be
As for us the hope
Of happy days
Someone rode to power on
Has long evaporated
All we can be certain of
Is that the dog days are coming
When dog will eat dog