A Dawn Serene

A Dawn Serene

A  dawn in winter,

And the sun’s first rays

Glowed the stubble-field.


Yonder a hundred herons,

Milk white,

Basked on a treetop.


From fig leaves

Dew sparkled.


Street deserted,

And the Bhutan hills,

Sprouted heads yet.


The sky dull,

And from some huts,

Smoke frayed.


Veiled women plucked


And crooned.


Plotted orchards,

And pumpkins

Hung in plenty.


Birds flicked,

And others parched

On electric wires.


The forest, grim,

Sullen, stood,

Bare, naked.


Don’t pine for

Date trees, yellowed fields,

Feast on the arrayed nuts,


And turnips, tomatoes.

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