The few days of spring were hot and muggy.
Replicating summer, the real spring was stingy.
People wore baggy pants and short sleeves.
Green, blue and red jackets took a backseat.

Sunny walks outside to the parks, trails and sidewalks
hotly cluttered with perspiration and talks of high mercury.
The dandelions came early. Spring fever and allergies
converted into dastardly rashes and heat strokes.
The weatherman and the analysts blamed it on global warming.
Forsythia refused to bloom, taking in retirement early.

People huffed and puffed, sweltering weather pummeled
The rains came as a nice distraction. Gardens were sodden.
Flowerbeds overflowed. Seeds sown lost their strength midlife.
We lamented on the unfashionable raincoats and
sipped iced tea. Lemonades pink and blue were toasted in memory of spring.

Clouds cleared and the sun peeked, and came out full bloom.
We hoped it would stay.
Picnics and barbecues and July 4th came. We were all roasted.
Weather mafia held spring captive. Fireworks continued uninterrupted.
Spring whimpered . We never heard its strangled screams.
We waited for autumn to cool us instead.

Copyright : Le Loop/Meena Vathyam/Pehchhan