Rainfall Ruminations

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The sky mooning over the earth

so close,yet so far. Eeyorish and sombre.

Pining for an unattainable love

since the inception of time.

 

Every monsoon its eyes get misty

by blue water drips.

Eyelids droop down heavy

with colonies of amorphous clouds.

Tears rain down, thundering gasps

downpour of suppressed mourns.

 

The ponds ripple, rivulets spill

trees dance in viridescent gala.

Birds cackle, minstrels’ exhilarating rhapsodies

environ the doleful aura.

 

In the funeral of the sky’s dead longings

earthlings revel in pluviophilia.

Where goes the compassion, the kindness multifold?

It’s perhaps the chilly gale which

renders them unsympathetic and cold.

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