A Quiet Sunday Afternoon Poem by Ruta Mohapatra

The afternoon wind is blowing
Cottony clouds are floating
The midday meal is over
Eyelids are drooping

The sun is taking a nap
Behind the curtain of clouds
The pigeons have gone quiet
But the cuckoo is singing aloud

The squirrel is chirping too
In tune with the cuckoo
Are they friends or foes?
Only the squirrel and cuckoo know

The morning hustle and bustle
Has slowly fizzled out
The sound of wheels and horns
Have quietly died down

The workers digging the road
To lay pipes and cables
Having had their meals
Are playing a game with pebbles

The day has quieted down
Time is moving slow
In course the evening will come
The sun will take a bow