Let the Evening come

Let the mellow light of
The late afternoon filter through
The gaps in the neem leaves
And its bitter fruits.

Let the dancing shadows form
An intricate modern art on
The freshly painted wall that's
Facing the west and let
The evening come.

Let the chickens go to brood
In the corner of the barn.
Let the bullocks and carts take a
Relieving sigh after their
Treadfull draft.

The moon must pat down
The crying kids to sleep.
The stars, let them thank all
The mothers for the supper
They've cooked.

The cicadas might be wanting a
Silent stage for their daily cry.
And the ghosts- the doused flicker
For their late night dance.

So let the evening come to pat
Down some of us to sleep and
Wake others in their dreams.
Let it come like it always has been.

And sometimes in many ways it
Always hasn't been.