Summer's Fault

by Satish Verma

It was like homecoming of
timber rattle snake.
A bit jarring.

Signs were acquitted,
when the summer becomes
sensuous at dusk.

I start collecting the colors
from sky. The night was
moving behind the moon

like a concubine, in black
skirt. Amidst the gray clouds
a green man was laughing.

The death's translation
was simple. Nobody will
attend the funeral of the sun.

25-Jul-2013

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