Very early,
Even the sun was out,
Scorching and hot
The wind had seized,
The heat was on a
High temperature,
The trees were on a stand still
There were no fruits on its branches,
Even the seeds were on strike.
The cloud would peep sometimes
And go home
He would say,
"They are not ready"
Yet, the fertile land was
Ready to produce richly
Species of fruits
As trying as times are
Many have decided to leave
Their faith in the hands of
Their creator,
Who is the all knowing.
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