Ah! The splatter of droplets adorning my little palms
as I stretch them out on the veranda, washing out all qualms
in the back of my tiny mind.
Ah! That sense of serenity, utter calm, and quiet
the earth’s perfume of petrichor instilling
a feeling of longing unnamed.
Ah! The ode of renewal, listen, as it calls,
the intoxicating trickle of god’s silver liquid,
the rustle of lush greenery, oh, I am addicted.
Ah! I believe so many others out there,
gazing at the dark clouds in a medley of emotions,
some believe it to be a calling for renewal,
some a symphony of melancholy,
some a whirlwind of nostalgia, lost in time,
while some look to it with love and devotion.
A symbol of hope, a symbol of love,
a symbol of sadness, a symbol of madness,
a symbol of worship, a symbol of religion,
a symbol of calm, a symbol of paradise.
God’s tears as they patter upon the roofs of mere mortals,
knowing not if they are of joy and mirth,
or of dejection and despair,
or of mania and intoxication.
When it comes, the first spell of rain,
mesmerized, I stare at the endless gray,
lost in the shower of cold-kissed iridescent drops,
shimmering, suspended in the breeze,
sheen dew on leaves and flowers,
glistening.
Oh…How can I describe,
the first spell
of rain!