A Song 226

Koyals midwife March dawns.
Shiva under a drip
at an empty temple
below a peepal
leafing a temple bell.
Tapping a walking stick
count 10 peepals,
two banyans,
sundry others,
tagged in brownish greens.
An undyed, middleager
lights a diya,
to a peepal, bows.
Peepal bends. 
Blunder into a
waiting, hot day.
Walk over.