Shamik Banerjee

Before a full breath’s done, the Stock Dove flies, 

From the fork of a tree, 

And in a tick, farther than reach of eyes 

In rapid wingbeats flee; 

At day sweet colourant is made by Sun, 

Like copper is in gold, 

Yet sweeter when the undertide is done 

Bright redness does unfold; 

Hisses the Praying Mantis among the green, 

As if tree leaves are shaken, 

And with herbage blend to remain unseen, 

When through it walks are taken; 


Ploughmen are pleased with oft occurring rains, 

As good will be their cropping; 

The Flycatcher, its shaded nest sustain, 

For sharp heat keeps not dropping; 

Like waltzing butterflies in jubilee, 

Upleap from leaves to copse, 

The Bulbul whews away from tree to tree, 

And on a Peepal, stops; 

Herdsmen and buffaloes in rural creek, 

Bathe in its cool waters, 

And cloths are beaten with bats made of teak, 

By the village daughters; 


Of all the months, more delight rises on, 

Since April’s foremost day, 

But when proceeds, from far, apprises on, 

The summertime of May; 

Though hips on briers come, but dulciness 

Of flowing creeks turn dry; 

On grasslands hays and logs, lose loveliness, 

And oft catch flame and cry; 

The joyless bird now has nowhere to go, 

Shade is gone from its nest, 

And sweltering buffaloes do not know, 

How they will obtain rest. 

Author: Shamik Banerjee is a poet and poetry reviewer from the North-Eastern belt of India. He loves taking long strolls and spending time with his family. His deep affection with Solitude and Poetry provides him happiness.

Artist: Irene Liao is a visual art student from Taiwan who aims to present figurative human art through her watercolour pieces.

Editors: Kelly Rouzbehi and Breeh Botsford