A day so hot that even the leaves are silent and still.
The pigeons stir their gossamered wings faintly.
An army of bees have captured the ledge outside
the library window, and turned it into
a golden yellow captivity of honeyed fellowship.
The limpid air rests awhile on the wayside flower,
while the lone squirrel goes up and down the old rain tree
flapping its bushy tail, and, occasionally hopping on to
The kitchen window in search of nuts.
Much like me, he is so careful about storing the nuts
that sometimes he forgets where he has put them.
The sun seeps through unrelenting clouds
unaffected by the oppressive heat and gloom.
Walking bare feet around the house
I dream of April showers to quench my thirst.
There is a faint smell of frangipani wafting down
from the terrace, carrying invisible promises of love
That cling half blushing to the tinted glass windows at dusk.
A brilliant sunset dims the languid skies,
and, induces a drowsy sense of calmness.
I can hear the frog croaking begging the rains to be kind,
While the neighbor’s son violently shakes the swing.
Drifting off in to a half-awake, breathless state of rest
I wonder if I can challenge the season to fulfill its promises
before it disappears, leaving us empty handed to greet Fall.
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