It was past meridian 
When my nap 
Trailed off to a dreamy drowse
And a draught from heaven
Through the open window, 
Braced my cheeks 
In chastening chill, 
Upping
The lids of sleep
I sat up 
To peer at the still dome, 
A spotless charm
Of unmolested hue.
In brooding calm
But soon the vision
Dipped
As the circling kites criss-crossed
My serene bliss
Of divining delight.
As they zoomed in and out 
Of the nullah at hand
What a far cry 
From the blue paradise
To the rotting ravine below
The beatific deep beyond is
A timeless tint
Only
To the seeing soul.