the mountain mists descend,
the heat has been made to bend,
the rains pour-incessant,
no thirst left to quench.
smoke on the water,
the nights become colder,
silence prevails,for the better,
everwhere there is green cover.
crowds like their cycles,
also their lake-walks,
a couple of parks
and the famous landmarks.
a better world,without worry?
or what i see is just of the sojourn
and not the local born,
will the treasure of nature live on?
