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Life’s Rains

The eastern evening sky grew dark,
as dark velvet dragons filled the sky,
from the eastern evening horizon,
their darkness rode westward swallowing,
the sky that lay between our narrow street,
and the two horizons that compassed it.
I was six and  the atavistic  fear,
of the end of the world filled me,
and I prayed “God Save us!”
the older people,
they were not afraid, they just talked,
waiting for the wind and the first raindrops,
before heading  home to shelter.

When the first raindrops hit the tin roof,
like the first wave of students
rushing from school gates,
they first  bounced and you could count the drops,
and then the floodgates opened,
as the peals of joy turned to a steady yell,
like a drumbeat of a thousand drummers,
hit the drums with rushes,
the rain rushed, swish, swishing,
through the corrugated channels and,
pitter, pattered as it hit the ground,
and the sound rushed, as little rivulets formed,
into small brooks, warbling past rocks,
that we had played with, just ten minutes ago,
the thunder rolls added it’s percussion,
pealed and echoed, with the chorus of the rain song,
as the thousand rainsticks sounded as one.

And then suddenly there was silence,
the warbling continued, though the rain’s ceased,
and a turquoise sky looked past limping  clouds,
the suns lay hidden behind some cloud,
its diffused light filled the valley,
and set aglow the whitewashed houses,
which sparkled in a strange white glow,
and the green trees glistened like gold,
while the tin roofs shone like burnished copper,
from the mango grove a distant cuckoo called,
another replied, as peacocks scratched the dirt for worms.

There is a breeze and a coolness that blows,
filling  my soul with  joy,
for the rain song, still runs in my veins,
and their sights and sounds, a happiness,
that was with me until now,
and will be with you from today.

© 2017, Charlie Bottle. All rights reserved. © 2009 All Rights Reserved

Published inPoem

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