Cloud cuckoo land

Despite cuckoo in tree no clouds form
Nimbus , stratus or cirrus or whatever.
These are clouds over farmer’s faces.
Now they squeeze their faces into sky.
The sky is as cracked as cotton’s land.
And a cloud cuckoo land is complete
With dry peacock piercing a grey sky
And Indiamap has wet tail in the sea.
Down there are masses of a cumulus
With no rail tickets to reach a cotton.
They fizzle down as promises unmet.

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