A final ray dropped to the ground
Kissing the sunflowers a soft goodbye
The golden lining is resting away
In the dusky cushion clouds.
The trees finally dance
Freeing their branches through the air
The thirst of 12 months
Is satisfied in this rainy care.
How the barren lands
Aashvi Solanki
Gift us the greener plains?
Oh, it’s the angel of the cloud
Throwing her pixie dust of rainfall,
In July the month of flourishing.
English