The sun turns fiercer by the hour
To step out could be hazardous
The trees are practising stillness
And the air seems inflammable,
Under the shade a worker
Is straightening out steel rods
Unfazed by the May weather,
Just days back someone chose
A watery grave undone by weather
Of the humankind not weathered,
Even the mythological god forgot
He was an incarnation and giving in
To despair surrendered to a river,
Given time the weather changes
And all thought of dying vanishes
When the monsoon rain arrives
With its wild, dancing flowers
And a season of hope and harvest.
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