There is a
weather forecast,
The sky looks overcast,
The clouds gather fast,
It becomes dark ,very dark at last.
It seems as if it is going to rain,
Condensed vapours stand like a train,
Wetness can be felt in the grain,
It becomes dark ,very dark at last.
Expecting good rains the farmer becomes cheerful,
Starts counting his gains hoping a return resourceful,
Bloats with pride aiming a harvest bountiful,
It becomes dark ,very dark at last.
“Did it rain ?”you ask me, at last,
“It did and it did not” !I say downcast,
Rains are like men to the last,
They promise and break in an overcast.
Believe neither rain nor man entirely,
Both are charming but perfidious ambiguously,
Both preach but not practise regularly,
Alas! It has become dark, very dark ,at last.
Meenas Poems 