Summer Suburbs

Basking lions on the grass, stuffy hot

In the suburban plain, this quiet place

Where birds chirp merrily, at break of dawn

And eves song. Dogs pass leading their owners

Sniffidely sniff in heat on the pant chase.

Quiet place, all other times, basking lot.

Too baked to gently tend the scorching plants,

Or play. Too soaked in sun’s caressing kiss

To remake the fence, path, brush paint-parched things.

Just lay, basking on the grass. Thoughts roam free

Settling in unexplored thickets, miss

Not past troubling and hindering chants.

No this day bask, and hear your deepest thought

As the wonder of the cloudless sky flies

In mesmerising passage like the parched

Leaf that floats undrinking on the cool stream.

Ponder those idle thoughts, keen, sharp and wise

Sometimes, a blessing in the summer suburb bought.