Summer As I Saw Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

Even in summer I can see the yellow golden chains bedecking with an aura and scenery of own just as the bridal house decoration. The golden champas keep calling us with their redolence asking to pause by for the sweet scent. Though we call Indian summer harsh and dry when the loo blows it hot, but instead of it the green foliage of glistening leaves takes us to deeper valleys, cooler shades of orchards and bowers.