The monsoon, wild and deep,
Comes stomping in with thunder’s sweep.
He rains his heart on leaf and stone,
Till every field is overgrown.
The peacock calls, the puddles sing,
In every drop, a jeweled ring.
The winter drapes itself in quiet white,
Soft woolen breaths on every night.
A smoky veil, thin mist that clings,
Embracing the earth like ancient kings.
It speaks in whispers, hushed and slow,
With tales of warmth that embers know.
Then comes spring, a teasing grace,
With floral perfumes and a playful chase.
It laughs in colors, bright and bold,
From marigold’s fire to the lilies’ gold.
A dance of petals, light and free,
In every garden, on every tree.
Summer strides in, fierce and proud,
With blazing eyes and voices loud.
She paints the earth in thirsty hues,
Of mango golds and sky blues.
Beneath her sun, the rivers dry,
As sweat and toil paint each sigh.
Each season here, a friend, a guide,
With tales to tell and secrets to hide.
The weathers, fierce and kind,
Whisper in rhythm, heart and mind.
Comments