Dry Season
Itβs dry season
Roads are rough and dusty
Plants are drained and dead again
Nothing excites
Except for the leaves turning golden
The flowers that bloom in colours
And the butterflies that flutter around them
The sky and hills are covered in the morning mist
Streams and rivers in flawless clearness
Flow quietly to their destinations
In the hot sunny noon
The hills lick the clouds
Which melt and fade into the heavens
As the blazing sun rages
On the beautiful landscape
Wrapped in the heat of the evening
I long for the comfort of the morning breeze
and the serenity of the morning dew