The Seasons.

                  The Seasons.       

                          1             

Nothing can irk life more than biting cold.

It puts the  routine’s route  much on hold.

Colder receptions hurt harder than chilling snow.

Benumbed bodies battle for a movement;

Frozen thoughts cripple cerebral circuits;

Nights turn pythons, swallowing  rat like days.

The slumbering Sun stifles diurnal targets.

Darkness reigns three fourth of twenty four seven.

Snow storms and hurricanes  steal the show.

The non- stop viral invasion  warps all hopes.

The inhospitable days and nights  impound

Body and mind for a beastly battering round . 

                             2

Waiting in sweltering  heat  for warmer  inlets,

With thoughts whipping as cat of nine tails,

There is nothing to give; nothing to share;

Endearing evenings get  stiffly jammed

Between  burning days and bullying nights.

The tropics envy the colder regions for their breather

During  their sunny days of surprising sojourns.

Heat is Hell with no preceding alarm bell ;

The sun burnt skin needs identity more than care.

Let not Nature’s prejudices  make parity bare.

For Summer’s voice is full of a seasoned snare.

The victim’s want for warmth is weakened by wrath

When the wind blows hot and the waves steam,

Life’s  leading precepts are  caught mid stream.
                           3

There is a lot here, to bestow upon others.

A lot to own as well as to share.

Nothing to bemoan or berate, in a process.

Prosperity is no myth to mystify the mind.

It  spurts  and grows in a leap,

Like spreading and penetrating light,

That takes  darkness deftly out of sight,

Cheering  up those, seeing things right.

Those who see the soil as a source of wealth

And not as a beckoning burial ground ,

Spring up as greener pastures, garnering  hope

To steer  mankind with strength of  joy.

Living means, being followed on a path

With a warranty for weigh bridges

Assuring right gains at the right time.                             

                       4

Fate makes the final moments fall

However  one’s goalposts grow tall .

The falling things fall with a felicitous thud.

The supporting soil stakes its claims.

Colours change as things fall in a free flow.

It is not that leaves alone change colours.

The smile on a falling face is full of winning grace.

The changing sense of smile is a fit of fine finale.

Life in pains or gains, the fall is a form of gratitude

For pleasures enjoyed and the pressures relieved.

The Fall is a fruitful, firming up fair play

That makes all things fall for a sure stay.

The earth’s seasons are made up of a solid four

That keep life’s happenings hail wail and more.

                                                                P.Chandraaekaran.