Sun Exposed
Walking through the harvested fields of Jan,
Heard the larks perking through the roots,
Sandgrouse roosting on the red and his tan,
Scanning that pale land by my muddy boots,
Across those bare fields, a lighting stuck tree,
Who's shades guarded my skin from the heat,
And today, only burnt ashes roam, they roam free,
Leaving behind a harsh stone concrete seat,
Even that evil scarecrow mourned her fall,
My back rested to the haystack, eyes closed,
Her cool shades call me again, no a quail call,
Hat on the floor, my face to the sun exposed.
©Prasad.N January 27th 2015
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