THE RHYTHM OF THE BUTTERFLY Contemporary Poetry Anthology by Santosh Kumar Biswa
Who is to blame? Days aren’t the same as our forbearers had, The sky they had, that was pleasant, So pure the rainfall for the yield, on time. In warmth they stayed whenever cold, And cool when hot, no machine to employ. Barely did they see any cataclysm occur And never did they suffer by any means, Nature being so kind, as they did to it. Oh God, why then what we catch today? The sky seems rude yet not acquitting well, Wilder has the only sun gone day after day to us, The air to see mercilessly, to trade us badly. We sweat and shiver - unstable the weather is, The climate, so episodic that changes mood, But umteen tragedy to find out right ahead And nature acts exasperatedly with us.
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