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