Meadows Go Sleep

Meadows Go Sleep
Through the thin tussling leaves of the old cypress tree
raptor rushes quiet in its regal eyrie,
waying through the ceaseless colours of cloud
red, pink, orange, yellow, to the shades of shroud.

Tormented sun wanting a few more minutes,
biding adieu the browns of millets,
the blues swallowed the Phoebus-digested the charms-
the sea singing silent - no harms, no harms.

Cockatiel -so mellow, so minute,
Cuckoos -the motherly melody of lute
apprehending the twilight, appetiting the light,
the heart of peace, how can I fight.

The breezes parching the sweats of clerks,
skirting the sun the whales and the sharks,
reflections, retractions in the gray, green, golden mirrors
and, suss the soul star shimmers.

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