He lay asleep

Under the shade of the tree,

No passersby hailed him

All rushed pass on their bikes.

Their cars … honking their way

Others sweated but walked away.

Without a glance

He, drenched in sweat

Stirred

Was it a gentle breeze?

That disturbed his idle sleep

No, there was no breeze.

The branches of the tree he lay under

Were miserably chopped

A tired branch

Covered with the remnants

Of some stale leaves

Stirred

A lonely bird perched up

Steadily watched the man

With his heated face

“Is he alive?” she chirped

 Away she flew to a tank

She perceived on her way

“Perhaps”, she muttered,

“He needs a drop of water”

She returned…

And a drop at a time

She let fall over the tired lonely man

And once again

He stirred…

                                               ~Shobha Diwakar

                                                Jabalpur, India