Vacating branches for new life to propagate,
the leaves with fire in their veins,
surrender themselves to fate.
If only I had the skill and power, I would paint the perfect rain clouds for,
All the selfless rivers, flowing tirelessly, trying to fulfill the deficiency of water.
All the lakes, that are shrinking, exposing in years their beds that many had never seen.
All the crops, that grew beautifully till it was time for some rain water to nurture them further.
All the debt ridden farmers, whose hopes are tied to the timely arrival of monsoon.
Paint clouds which would deliver rain, neither more nor less than needed, no floods, no droughts but just the right amount.
” Just right” like Goldilocks’s tale.