The Gust of Growth

The summers receded instantly,
Calling the monsoon winds that drifted heavily,
With amassing clouds of rain,
Waiting to pour over a mountain without a strain.
Making the wild flowers flutter through the gust,
Scared to death, thinking, how unjust.

And then the fierce storm paved way,
For drizzles followed by heavy showers like a relentless relay.
Piercing some flowers so tender,
Of which some resisted, while others surrendered.
In the end when it all drained,
Was the strongest and the luckiest that prevailed.
A bunch full of bare stems,
Ready to give birth to beautiful blossoming fragrant flower gems.


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