The Monsoon

In the crooked creaky landscape,
With the bright hot sand dunes glowing,
And the thirsty crust moaning,
Hot rays of Sun reign supreme.

The groans of the burnt grasses,
And the anguish of the barely alive,
With the woefully waif sky,
Anger of summer is at its prime.

With the flutter of the dark clouds,
The earth wakes up to a cool breeze,
And enlivens the tortured souls,
As the temple bells chime.

The pious touch of her feet sprouts the seeds,
And her sweet whispers coo through the air,
And her wavering serpentine hair,
Shield the land from the sunshine.

An angel from the heart of the globe,
And the epitome of beauty and grandeur,
Monsoon brings joy for the country,
As blessings of God rhyme.