O monsoon rains

Arising from the south-west, us to bless, Ye strike nigh like an invading army, In a month’s time to conquer all country, An invader benevolent, I guess. Ye pour here, pause there, lay anchor in grace, Then change gears to sprint, frenzy thy furrow, In myriads of moods not easy to know, We worry, ye arrive when late in laze. It’s monsoon mood that goes to greet green earth, Which, man has done damndest dire to destroy, Pity, he blames thou as erratic still, Whilst always indulging in a vain mirth. As Nature’s child, bestow to us fair joy, To hope, man learns seems a faith uphill. __________________________________________ Sonnet |10.05.2024| rain Poet’s note: With the south-west monsoon, a gamble in hope, ready to break anytime, this sonnet verges on a wishful thinking.