When sweat drips from farmers in field
Labouring hard, fields not yet tilled,
Approaching end the month of June—
Waning to welcome July's moon,
The sun raining down red anger,
A month called ah rain's harbinger.
A month at its highest harness,
A month that shows summer's greatness,
Jasmin flowers when begin to blossom,
Luscious mangoes ripen, blue-berries bloom,
And everyone's waiting for rains to come,
Balmy breeze when finds little room.
Gulmohor when wears garments green,
And Neem at its coolest is seen,
Farming fields when have fallen bare
After crops have been taken care,
Even fields when look at the skies,
Filled with suspense seem their blank eyes.
Time's nigh for farm hands, be busy again,
Building up grey clouds to bring rain,
Time to spread manure in the fields,
The soil is set when for rich yields,
Comes evening, wafts when a cool breeze,
And hope in hot air spreads some ease.
Some farmers under a tree swing,
Relaxed, to take much deserved rest,
Awaiting nightlong sleep to take over,
Their numbing eyes heavy with dreams—
Dreams of Ashādh's awaited rains,
End of the old, onset of newer pains!
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¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬Happenings |13.06.2020|
Topic: summer, rains, pains, June, seasons
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