Someday all our trees would grow.
One day they would sing to the skies.
In one season, the rain would tell
a lot of stories.
It is not the growing,
it is not in the great dance
there is a meaning for the womb.
There are treasures in the heart
in our strive this season.
Lord, let our fruits ripen
each tree you have given a fragrance
and favour that thrills all year.
In the flourish of our gift
in your most sweet glory
Almighty kindly with your hands lift.
Let us return at night
delighted with tasks concluded.
And look at the heaven at night riddled
with million diamonds not deluded
to let go of a piece not merited.
Precious Father, gracious saviour
let our fruits ripen
so when a new dawn speaks
we will hear the cheers of children
with sweet melody singing to You.