The dusty crumpled leaves blossomed with a blow of monsoon rain-bead;
The weary soil put on the dustcles bearing the fresh muddy flavor;
The ploughed farm hide the early water-drib as precious as prosperity;
The thirsty rivulets quaffed the inaugural spring-pour quite greedily;
The fatigued birds draw their wings to douse thoroughly;
I suppose, I got the message:
It is not simply a new season;
It is not barely a new colour of nature;
It is not merely a new beginning;
It is wholely a new way of thinking, trying something novel, aspiring new cherishes.
