Everything in existence,
Form a speck of dust in the stellar
To the gigantic mother earth,
Has a tale to tell,
If we care to observe.
So does the science of horticulture
The mother of all culture,
Encompassing a dust of soil
To the diverse species of plants,
Has a narration beyond imagination.
The science of entomology,
Dealing with insect physiology and morphology
From the team-work of queue of ants
To the hovering of exquisite butterflies,
Has a purpose to be met.
From the vigorously growing plants
To the sickly appearing ones,
Has a pledge to be made
And a favor to be granted,
If the phytopathologist care to listen.
From the ushering of the radiant rays
To its immediate seizure in the western horizon,
The priceless gifts of the medicinal and aromatic plants
Do bind our everyday existence with fragrances,
If we care to open our olfactory senses.
Everything that swirls or descends from the firmament,
From the thunderous growl with the cyclonic catastrophe
To the frosty calm morning that greets us,
Has a warning to be foretold,
If the meteorologist care to be vigilant.