Rain
I smelled rebirth as the petrichor emanated
from the ground, carpeted by grass
across the field. Termite mounds sharply rose
from the ground like tiny watchtowers,
waiting for the long, awaited rains to come.
Some birds sang tunes prophesying the coming
of the long, awaited rains, with only scattered clouds
as a sign of a slim-chance downpour.
Trees were still green, probably anticipating
the new life that would seep right into them.
Fish in the river sometimes poked their sharp
noses out of the waters' skin,
curious to feel how it felt like when a raindrop
hit them, after the skies cracked open.
My grandfather always told me the gods
emerged from the sun, in a ceremonious fashion,
to crack the clouds open to release rain. A long
time I gazed at the sun, waiting for someone
or something to come out of it....
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