An April Night

Two stubby men have gathered for a walk
Upon this windy, basalt lane, below
A mayfly-crowded streetlamp's fitful glow.
Creating smoke rings, they begin a talk.
Their midriffs still distending from the meal
At supper; two, three roar-like belches say
The dal and sabji made their palates sway.
In such a night, it seems as if the wheel
Of nature turns reversely, for each sight
Appearing commonplace gives more delight
Than those in other months; the floating, high
Dacoits don't steal the bright pearl of the sky;
This world is ordered, peril-free, and good;
And life and fate don't seem too stern or rude.

Shamik Banerjee

If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Shamik Banerjee would be pleased to hear them