Towards Edge of Summer

Smitha Sehgal


Yellow is the colour of Earth when Summer holds breath to paint Canvas of poet;

A ripe moon hangs on brow of night illuminating back waters with restless cries of curlews,

In the weary shadows of time, fish swim upstream, crossing over to deep lagoons, bowing in

reverence to Snake Goddess of Islands, seeking refuge from turbulent waters of ocean.

Here in the deepest ascend of meditation they brush verse encrusted lips on the roots of

mangrove forests,

They will stay long, drawing arcs of leaping seahorse on walls of their mud homes


When Monsoon arrives on eyelids of dark clouds, breath of rain pulsates on the surface of

Earth, Ocean inundated memories of Lagoon, crossing over barriers of languages

Houseboats gather damp wood fire, last flowers of Earth weave melodies of ancient tribes

of rivers and mountains, sky and love, interspersing jasmine buds blooming in courtyards of

red tiled homes

Everything we accumulate become bones of memory to be brought out when tide recedes in

the cloud of illusion.

As for the fish that came home in Summer, they spawn – spreading out to Oceans in glints of

jade poetry