The Spell of Summer

                                    Picture Courtesy: Google

Sometimes a frost may shackle summer days

or gag the yellow sun or make it blind.

Sometimes the sky may lose its burning gaze;

reject compassion and appear unkind.

Sometimes the shady tree may bleed its green

to drench with envy, lovers come to rest.

Sometimes the steely brook may need a screen,

to quench the frenzied divers, trying best.

Sometimes the buds may bloom a little late;

prolong the wait of graves beseeching hope.

Sometimes the breeze may blow and yet not sate
a breathless being trying his best to cope.

To scavenge passion, Nature feigns a grace-

becomes a Mother and then changes face.