I open the creaky porch door and march outside with vigor
A warm, humid wind bursts onto face and tiring times await

The long and coarse grass hails my arrival
Its spiny ends prickle my heels and brush my toes
I feel the dew on each individual grassy leaf
And press down on the dampness with my 10.5 feet

The ground has much to offer and all, I take
Clay deposits harbor worms and choke all growth
Shovels dig deep and into the Earth we go
To plant an artificial tree, a metallic TV satellite

 

– Utkarsh Sharma (ManuDrama)