Kites, gliding in the sky when the weather is set
celebrating the auspicious time of the year.
They shoot to the corner whereĀ no oneĀ else is there;
marking theirĀ territory.
They clash thunderously,
the sharp threadĀ tongĀ as a knife edge.
A piece of cloud fell,
white as swan,Ā light as feather.
It hit the ground in the middle of a field.
The rains came again feeding the autumn crops.
Soaked with red mud and sand,
wet, it went to feed the autumn crops.
Lay still and wait;
let the reapers reap.








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