The north sky changed to a hue of orange
A pall of chill descended from above
The breeze swaying the trees subsided
Suddenly there was an eerie calm
Then the drops started like a music
On the leaves it fell which rustled
On the roof of cars a metallic rhythm
The soil emanated its rustic smell
The tar road now with black polka dots
The pace grew like a conductor in trance
Large droplets flattened on the fall
Like innumerable tapping boots
The breeze now aiding the falling drops
Against the distant street light
An exodus of droplets is seen
Like the sand dunes shift places
Now the depressions on land get filled
Tiny rivulets are synthesized as you see
On the edges of the road or a highland
Many of them join to form a stream
As kids one would set a paper boat on it
As adults apprehensive to wet ones feet
What was a plaything in the past
Now a thing to be avoided
For a farmer this is manna from sky
The beauty of rain is its falling from above
The pure unadulterated water
It washes the land and the soul
It replenishes the dryness of the earth
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