SPOTLIGHT: Songs Of Cardinal by Maryam Qureshi

Pale Autumn Moon…

Withering Face

Lonely Maiden


Burning stove

Warmth gently comforts

The snowy day


Creeping up stealthily

Surrounds everything

The effect of long sleep

Cold lullabies

Trees dreaming of


Old companions

Cocoon in


Earth and Sky

Wrapping up in the one

Case of mystic fog

Little toads hopping

Voice of Northern spring peeper

Declares on trumpet

Joys of spring are air bubbles

Summer is a short-lived dream

Numerous black boughs

Embedded with flakes of snow

Sparkling by moonlight

Like a group of the hermits

Holding up many lanterns

Tiny deeds of kindness

Eliminating darkness

Of this nasty world.

Summer’s Day!

Once upon a beautiful day, I happened to read Shakespeare’s sonnet, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” The sonnet opens up,

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May”

Summer is the season to leisure around exuberantly. For being the divine successor of spring, the legitimate break between the colorful, bright and lovely spring and the gray, melancholic and barren autumn, it’s the time for the fruits to be ripened fully, for the crickets to sing subtly and the stars to shine more vividly but not to suppress the delicate flickering light of the fireflies hanging around the mighty darkness of the summer’s night.

Right from the beginning of this world until now, the summer season has a special significance for the poets, writers and dramatists in their writings. Like the famous poet John Keats once said,

“I almost wish we were butterflies and lived but three

summer days…three such days with you I could fill with

more delight than fifty common years could ever contain”.

Keats compared the seasons of nature with the life cycle of Man. According to him,

“Four seasons fill the measure of the year; There are the four seasons

in the mind of man”

He said about Summer,

“He has his Summer, when luxuriously Spring’s honeyed cud

of youthful thought he loves to ruminate, and by such dreaming

high is nearest unto heaven”

He wrote very beautifully,

“Fast fading violets covered up in leaves;

And mid-May’s eldest child,

The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,

The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves”.

For me, summer is a season to enjoy my cold juices, the lovely sunset and the beautiful sound of the summer rain. The starry sky looks amazingly different as compared to the foggy cold night of gloomy winter.

“Through buried paths, where sleepy

twilight dreams the summer time away.”

(John Keats).

Maryam Qureshi is a poet and columnist. Her work has appeared in online and print journals published by Prolific Press Inc. She is also working as managing editor and columnist for The Elixir Magazine.
Follow her on Twitter: @MiryamHussein
Contact by email:


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