What's Left Of Indian Summer Is This Poem by Ravi Kopra

What's left of Indian summer is this -
Parched lands, all vegetation gone
No grass, cattle starve in the grazing fields
Dust strewn heat waves you can see with bare eyes
All village water ponds dry, no water for the cattle to drink
Birds fall drop dead sky in the flight
Water sinks in wells, city dwellers on water ration
Thirst, thirst everywhere, people faint in heat waves
Thousands die, too hot for them to survive
Schools shut for the summer, people walk in shades
They drink salted watered butter milk, the Punjabi lassi.
Hot sun sears your skin, enters deep like arrows into your marrow
Streets, bazaars deserted of people, the heat fries mosquitoes and flies
Dust storms blow from deserts, tree leaves get brown loaded with dust
Sand rubs under your collar when you perspire and feel
The sand paper is filing your neck turning it into a lobster.