raindrops on...

depends, really

I remember those never ending monsoon rains
not anything like the half-hearted attempts
people call rain in this part of the world-
-no more than a spoilt child's sniffles

monsoon rain overwhelms you
drowns your thoughts
reminds you of the sheer
recklessness of nature
at its arrogant best

as the wind rattles the exquisitely
carved solid teakwood
windows of huge art deco houses

thunder (g)rumbles like an old
man - arthritic and always complaining
about the weather
about being dragged out into
the cold wet sky
but nonetheless dazzles
with his unpredictable flashes of brilliance

little rivulets rush down the road
like a bunch of chattering boys
when school is out
they push and shove and
run up the embankments
carefully crafted to keep
low lying houses dry - why
do people bother

the milling crowd under
black umbrellas lean into
the rain as if the weight of
their communal shoulders would
push away the clouds
and the column of water
- a solid sheet curtain
blotting out all senses
filling the void with
an onomatopoeia
yet to be coined

and when finally
nature has had it's say
when the last rivulets have
bubbled off to hide
in the undergrowth

the sun comes out
and lights up the little
droplets clinging on
to the dark green
fleshy leaves and
the unashamedly yellow
flowers

raindrops on...
















Thanks to photocheese for bringing back a childhood memory