By: Ranjit K Sahu

A killer summer

Causality of an unsolicited relationship
My heart wanders around the dusky hues
The summer sky grapples with clouds
Comprehending what’s false and what’s true

Wishes metamorphose into murmurations
Changing their shape and intensity
And in those abstractions sketch out
Definitions of love and its density

Perhaps the shimmering heat and dust
And the barging clouds will settle down
Bringing some respite to heated lives
And cool down the concrete of the town

The taste of the ripening berries
Lingers on in the hanging boughs
Summer still remains unsolicited
Its flowers and fragrances titillate though

Scent of the milkweed

The monarch spreads his wings
After having his fill for the long haul
The afternoon breeze edging him a little
To lift off for the horizons

The old bees seek solace
Unaware if they shall wake
When dawn strikes again
And lets them gather the nectar

As night sinks in the backyard
I could only thank myself
For not uprooting the milkweed
That grew from nowhere

The moon smiles once
Before sinking below the horizon
It has lived the summer night
Doused in Divine delight

All pervading is the fragrance
Unseen yet provoking the heart
The scent of romance defined
In the wee hours till the morn.

Music of the woods

Rocks strewn along its length
The creek curls and folds on itself
A shower on the hills is all it needs
To begin its musical journey through the woods

Nonchalant to the aspirations
And the apprehensions set
In the parched canopies it sways
Mesmerizing music among the pebbles

The froth and the bubbles
Little sprays and rough tumbles
Everything is the way it can happen
For the creek that has waited long

The storm and the surge
The meanders muddied by it flow
It bothers not its clarity is clouded
A cloudburst is the creek’s show!

Starlight

The barren earth can lay light
And wait for the monsoons
As it always does before it turns
Green and divided and full of life

A soft breeze and an exclamation
Break the silence of the night
As the concretes invading the villages
Throw out their last repository of heat

The roof terrace is a solace
The refuge, the place to seek
Restless villagers choke for a breath
The birds had fallen silent early on

The canvas opens up
After the sweltering afternoon
And sprinkles little dots
To play connect and create

If the heavens could send dreams
And let those be sketched endlessly
Perhaps the summer night
Was their best bet and venture.