By Asha Singh Gaur
A little away from the concrete jungles
A little closer to the open fields
There was a lake with receding water,
and farmers cried for their yields.
Cracked soil and shrivelled trees,
Littered earth with crackling leaves,
Shrinking puddles begging for relief
A ray of hope and a little belief.
But then,
when the moon was eclipsed
by the fluffy blanket of clouds.
Casting a shadow on
the grasslands and mounds.
The skies echoed the roaring thunders.
The lake blazed with lightning, and
The farmers were in shudders,
It poured and poured to the earth’s core
And filled the air with petrichore.
The puddles surged and the lake soared,
The cicadas screeched and frogs croaked.
There was a strange but a certain harmony,
Nature was creating its symphony.
Quenching the thirst of every creature,
With rain, signaled Mother Nature,
It was time for the seeds to germinate
Every speck to rejoice and procreate.
Every blade of grass, shrubs and trees,
Washed clean by rain, lush, and green.
Insects, birds, and beings of the wilderness
Dance in the rain and play in the puddles.
She is a mother and nestles all she creates,
the ferocious predators and their prey
With warmth and affection unmatched,
Fair to the core, undiscerning and unbiased.
A little away from the concrete jungles
A little closer to the open fields,
I witnessed life blossoming,
In the dying lake and parched fields.