Tears of Sky
The air, thick with the promise of the coming downpour, held a peculiar aura.
Not the sharp, acrid tang of the approaching storm, but a subtle, almost ethereal perfume.
A dampness, a coolness, a hint of earth, of decaying leaves, of something ancient and comforting.
It clung to the air, a fine, invisible mist, a silent prelude.
The impression, not a smell, but a feeling, whispered through the leaves, rustling in the branches, sighing through the reeds.
A tremor of anticipation, a hushed expectancy.
The world held its breath.
A moment of suspended animation.
Then, a single drop, like a tear from the sky, traced a glistening path down a blade of grass.
Another. Another. Another. Another. Another!
The rhythm quickened, a drumming on the roof.
A deluge.
And the impression changed.
It deepened, becoming richer, more profound.
Not just the earth, but the washed-clean stone of the riverbed, the dampened petals of wilting jasmine.
The dampened asphalt had a peculiar, earthy sweetness.
A memory, fleeting and profound, of childhood afternoons spent in the garden, the relentless drip, drip, drip of the rain, the damp cool air against the skin.
A child's quiet joy.
The presence of rain.
It was more than an impression.
It was a sigh of the earth, a whisper of the universe, a testament to life's relentless cycle of renewal.
Copyright © Dr. Padmashree R P | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment