The sun beat down harshly,

from his bronze coloured sky.

By the fiery temper of the wind,

the leaves were condemned to die.

Desolate was the landscape,

and withered were the trees.

Craving for a healing touch,

from a soothing breeze.

Seeing the misery of the earth,

with pity the clouds wept.

Large brown rivulets of tears,

along the ground that crept.

I inhale the lovely fragrance,

of the earth slaked with rain.

And watch it in joy at my window,

as it splashes against the pane.