Summer trampled on flowers brutally,

Parched sun-distilled greenery and drank it.

Awful scavengers died of thirst for blood.

That is the story of our sun in the system,

Blessing us with its stroke and fire sermon.

Hornbill’s skeleton witnessed a torrid epoch,

We are trapped in the extreme season’s hold.

A chiller car dashed down the mirage road,

The rich man goes for his summer escape.

His grandeur mimics winter everywhere.

But blossom fell into the feverish pitch,

A weather-beaten man fainted on the road.

That is not always an unusual scene here.

Vultures perched on an arid tree with glee.

Above, gods have withdrawn their visual sense.

~Baburaj T V

India