" Now weary drought is unfolding with morn's very maturing warmth,where scorching sun's importing beams a glowing fire upon our hearth.Naught,the chillness of rills,no more a flowering spot for musing eyes,summer's dirge is haunting still,we singing our notes in hapless ease. "

― Nithin Purple , Halcyon Wings: 'these Passions Feathers Are Gathering on a Winged Vision'