Monsoon

10th April, '09

Lightning blazes through cloudy skies,
inky black with longing,
the grasses dance a dance of love,
and the expectant cuckoo-birds sing.
The heat has filled our very souls,
we pray for rapid respite,
let it shower down on our bodies,
and our souls with all its might.
There will be a rippling madness,
ecstatic satisfied smiles,
the booming clouds know all of this,
and yet the monsoon beguiles.
We wait with bated breath each minute,
with sweaty, eager palms,
give us your water, oh bursting clouds!
smother us in your arms.