Petals blossom as the day is born,
Dewdrops shed from twigs, flowers and thorns.
The new born diffuses rejuvenation all around,
Mother Nature is prettier – from sky till ground.
Mist of hopes spread, as do the longer rays, all over;
Amazing is god’s art when for sketching he uses clover.
The baby whimpers with the birds’ and insects’ chirp,
Chilled is the aura as flora swings without a slurp.
Somewhere, in the blues, crescent of moon is dwindling;
Layers of vegetation snake through the fresh wind.