Poem 17

     

                                   Summer's Rain 

Amidst sunlight, the sun's gazing fire,

Into the valley, releiving crop's nodding dire,

The smell of petrichor reign around;

O, my modesty

Our last hope of summer rain

Is well profound;

The raining valleys hath 

implicitly

Marked thy presence

And served my existence.

...

                                             - Ishika Jain