Weather Poem by Neela Nath Das

Grief itself is a kind of blazing summer; that drives off greenery from the soft moist turfs of the fields and skirts of even wilderness, causes the soft creamy mudflats go dry and crack, lay bare under the barren dusty skies. when nature drives home the lowing herds of dry weather, and they fade off into yellow natural havens, yes, within the womb of nights might a thunder shower take birth to relieve the shadows first, and then slowly permeate into the source above. your verse inspired me to contemplate on the thought of you at the fated moment of composition. God Bless. wonderfully penned, so is the emotional drought is felt very much.

beautiful poem.liked it.