Rain and Us
Last night it rained,
Incessantly, but without hope
For this was not
The time of the year,
Only the season of prayer
From a million parched lips.
Murmurs coalescing
Into clouds, precipitating
In the rain dust
Waiting for a miracle of sorts.
Last night it rained,
The street lights got drenched
Withdrawing into themselves,
With silent prayers
On the rims
Waiting for a Buddha to appear.
But the flowers bloomed
To welcome the coolness
Ignoring the evanescence,
The uncertainty
Of the passing moments.
Now, in the cool, quiet morning,
When I walk among
The riot of colors, I know
The flowers
Did the right thing
When it rained last night.
Copyright © Swarup Mohalik | Year Posted 2013
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