Ancient trees casting shadows in slanting stripes
Along the road, with cool and darker bloom
Crowning each bar, merging with each other
Rippling by, like a river of shadows.
Warm and yellow stretches in between, drenched
With the morning Sun, traversed on longer strides.
And soothing shadows keep beckoning for a break,
To repose and recline on the leaves
Drying brown, heaped around the tall, ageing trunks,
When the packs of twittering birds are lodged
Across the branches, like some refugees
Seeking shelter from the riotous mid-morning heat.
Down below on both sides of the road, stretching
All the way to the distant horizon
And beyond, lands, low and wet with weeds and grains
Sunbathing in plenty of invisible
Ultra violet rays, straining the naked eyes
Like a damn painting with the contrast set too high.
With the cruising sun precious time is running out,
Destination still lies so far away.
Soon the slanting shadows will shrink to form
Tiny puddles around the clutching roots,
And then reappear with a change of sides,
While the sunshine turns golden from yellow and white.
The City of Light, lying at the end of the road
Awaits the arrival of all the weary souls
But her gates are closing down, as the dying Sun
Dives beyond those mountain peaks, pink and draped in snow.