River 22 Poem by shuvo chakraborty

Water of late year in running height
Towards the rustic stream after dry looking months
And the lumbering clouds jostle at open field
To prevent the hyacinths mobbing the tiny catchment.
Legion of hyacinths nagging in upper stream
And are basking on cloud breaking sun beams
With cutlery of nodding violets cloding the wind
From blowing spontaneous over the eyes quisitive
To pierce the cartel delusions in time template.