In gardens lush with fruits and blossoms bright,
Where honeybees and birds in flocks descend,
They sip the nectar sweet, probe roots for light,
And sate their thirst till hungers softly end.
The blooms brim thick with scent and golden dew,
Ripe fruits hang soft in yellow, juice-drenched glow;
Bees hum in bliss through hours ever new,
While raccoons gorge on mellow orbs below.
But drought has scorched the berries, parched the green,
No rain has fallen; plants in ruin lie.
The bees and birds now hunger, lost, unseen,
And weep to see their paradise gone dry.
Yet soon, perhaps, the heavens’ tears will pour,
And grant the creatures life to bloom once more.
