I don’t want this to be
another poem
about the rain.
There are many good poems
about the rain.
Rather
I want these words to fall on you
like rain,
like monsoon rain.
On you – that dry, cultivated
one
who never stands out
in the rain.
On you – that desert full of seeds
that longs
for life-giving rain.
Yes, these are only simple words,
not rain.
But simple were the words
that made you run for shelter.
Rain.
These drops of water
fall,
these drops of brilliant
rain
fall faster,
faster
and you are standing still
under the rain.
Under heavy rain.
You know what it
is saying
and you are soaked
to the skin.
First published in Wildflower Muse, 2 September 2016
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