Must Savour the First Rain
Must Savour the First Rain
Like love, it comes after a long pining
The smell of the first meeting
Of the falling water and the fine soil
Reminiscent of my first lick of love
Disarming my otherwise guarded heart
Lost defenses to the soothing art
Of the complementarity of the scotching soil
And the cold and freely falling rain
Tip-tapping at the back of my shoulder
As I search for broken asbestos pieces
To play my ‘padda’
The cleaned up air breathe
Spurs my insides as an infant’s first suckle
Of her mother’s breast
The pat-pat of the rain on my roof lullaby me
Into unremembered sleep
Must savour the first rain
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