The rains in monsoon, in the Ghats of the West,Picturesque green, to the eyes, a feast.
The mountains hiding in the clouds so thick,
Like milk all around in a world mystic.
Gushing water from the cliff so high,
Like an angel clad in serene white.
The whistling breeze and the pattering rain,
Music perennial but never mundane.
Tiny rain drops falling on Earth,
Like a saint sprinkling celestial mirth.
Flowers and butterflies in hues so bright,
Nature’s canvas, oh what a delight!
A canopy green over a road below,
Protecting the traveler setting his face aglow.
Unseen beauty, inexplicable joy,
The grass seemed green on every side.
I now know God, another name for Nature,
What else Oh Father, could it be but Mother?
