The Dry Season

The Dry Season

Deep blue cloudless sky.

The merciless sun high.

The scorching heat.

Quivering under the beat.



The land shimmers.

Surfaces glimmers.

The atmosphere can’t cry.

Parch earth completely dry.



Streams and rivers thirsty.

In need of water aplenty.

It must have been months now,

that rain has not fallen somehow.



Occasional birds fly.

Out of necessity to try

find cooler perches

to endure the sun’s clutches.



In a black wooden barrack,

a half-naked man was relaxing

in an arm-chair profusely sweating

despite the fan turning full swing.



Back in the farms,

farmers are oblivious to the heat,

finishing off jobs that need to be done

while the weather is hot and rain refuse to come.



‘Tis usually an annual affair.

God is great and absolutely fair.

He gives us many seasonal varieties.

And we must adapt ourselves to these.