Summer


muezzin calls for the aft prayer
a solitary shirt hangs to dry
an expectant crow peeps from the window
a still life afternoon slowly goes by

The summers not hot yet
but its stillness is here to stay
the stuble on my cheek feel full
remains of a lazy sunday

soon the sun will laze too
and the shadows will dominate
the dogs will remain idle
and the cows will ruminate

The muezzin will call again
and the sun might relent by then
a small breeze might twirl the solitary shirt
a summer day shall pass by then

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