Indian Summer Poem by Om Chawla

O lovely lady from colder climes
You sing praises of summertime,
As it unshackles the chillier bind
Of preceeded freezing wintertime:
As sun's kind warmth rejuvenates life,
When flowers bloom and plants revive,
when chirping birds flutter and fly,
And humans bask in soothing sunshine,
After release from shackled chillier bind.

Here in my land of tropical clime,
Moderate is winter barring hilly confines.
Sun is harsh in summertime;
Banishing moisture from the air.
In the dry hot air non dare to venture;
Eyes can't stand sun's dazzling glare.
Stray cattle and dogs disappear,
Hiding beneath some shady cover;
In hollow trunks of leafy trees
Birds find shelter from scorching heat.
Leaves and plants scorch yellowish brown
While grass in the parks turn earthy brown.
Rare is the sight of a blooming flower
Hot blows the wind even after sunset hour.

Outside the village a group of farmers
Stares at farmlands, devoid of moisture,
Dry upper crust shattered into smithereens,
Parched land, streaked with crevices;
Distraught farmers with skewed eyes
Peer deep into the horizon of the eastern sky
Searching for monsoon clouds, that might
Rain and saturate the land to farmers respite,
And might subdue the dry hot summer wind
Yet relief there won't be as humidity sets in.
Dry or humid, summer is distressing
Such is the summer in my country's tropical clime.