Circadian Song

III.

Noon

First is the sun
a star-shaped hole in the sky
the inhumanity of the universe is in its glare
stunning us into a heat-filled daze.

Second is the sky
blanched of colour, dry as a bone
not a cloud or a breeze stirs on its face
its eyes are glazed over with heatstroke.

Third is the silence
of an Indian summer noon
pulsing with unbearable heat and light
Time melts, and hangs breathless in glowing strands.

Fourth is the road
stretched thin like butter
it shimmers with mirages mile after mile
lying exhausted like a dying snake.

Fifth is me, cactus growing by the wayside.

A/N: Inspired by travel via public transport. If you have not seen an Indian summer, you have not seen summer at all.

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