The first sharp ray
rips the curtain apart.
The mango tree has blossomed.
A heady fragrance,
a hint of gold in the midst of green.
The sounds invade the world around.
A woodpecker is frantically busy.
chiselling away with speed
at the bark of the peepul tree.
My heart, inhale the world coming to life.
The smouldering has ceased.
The morning has transformed the fumes
into a crisp air, the aroma of summer wind.
This small hour stands still
like a child waiting to be hugged back in love
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