Within this rattling of the metals above
And the heavenly grumbles, the grey void
The waterholes, frayed, loosened, dispatched . . .
Now, silences lose their grips.
It rains and there’s deep slumber
Tents’ pegs are mocked by watermud, recasting
Shadows of the primitive nights on days’ weakened rays
Silences, except for the rhythm known when it rains.
......
It falls with grace.
Metallic bawls hail the strength of zinc roofs.
At the mercy of the thatch,
Drops drip from needle points of skeletal
Palm fronds.
Particles of rain descend on thresholds
Among dewed terrains.
The petrichor befriends the atmosphere,
Caressing limpid warmth with floating cold.
Lightning, a white dancing Anaconda, races with speed,
......
In the face of an early morning drizzle,
On a fireside earth-throne,
I sit and summon thoughts.
The firewood, red with the suppressed anger of
Smouldering fire,
Crackles constantly
Amid the paying of wages of serenity.
Thoughts and fascination cringe
My breath now pulsated by the throbs of wanton
......
You shall not speak to lightning
As if he were your mate
You shall count your fingers, beginning from
One rainy day to the last
Your bosom shall be cleansed
Before the first rain
If you peep through the door of rain
......
Rains splatter on the silence of night
When the holy seas bend their head in sleep.
I recline on the stillness of a bright moon,
Shining forth into the head of my bed.
Her body is pumiced and oiled by the hands
Of caring night spirits that walk the length of
A gentle September.
Darkness deepens at the yawning of the earth
When it thirsts for rain – that wondrous element
Known for its wetness and liquidness.
......
Within this rattling of the metals above
And the heavenly grumbles, the grey void
The waterholes, frayed, loosened, dispatched . . .
Now, silences lose their grips.
It rains and there’s deep slumber
Tents’ pegs are mocked by watermud, recasting
Shadows of the primitive nights on days’ weakened rays
Silences, except for the rhythm known when it rains.
......
In the face of an early morning drizzle,
On a fireside earth-throne,
I sit and summon thoughts.
The firewood, red with the suppressed anger of
Smouldering fire,
Crackles constantly
Amid the paying of wages of serenity.
Thoughts and fascination cringe
My breath now pulsated by the throbs of wanton
......
You shall not speak to lightning
As if he were your mate
You shall count your fingers, beginning from
One rainy day to the last
Your bosom shall be cleansed
Before the first rain
If you peep through the door of rain
......
When the sinciput of the clouds cracks
for the first time,
accompanied by the lifting of the brows
of the sky,
and there is an eloquent ceremony in the
heavens' hall of grey,
it is Sacred Rain.
Restless rain comes when the front door
Opens to reveal two dragonflies mating
In mid-air —one male the other female.
Shafts of warm sunlight pierce through
Windowpanes of cathedrals, pointing to
Some frugal earnestness of heated air.
Winds are deceived in this distillation of
Burnished clouds with charged frontiers of
Rebelling seas, causing the retching of
Frolicking seagulls.
......