Dews of Hope

The sky turns a bruised and heavy grey,
As the golden sun is tucked away.
The smell of dry dust, dry earth, signals the moment of a green rebirth.
Then comes the sound, a distant roar, as the heavens open and spirits soar.

The rain
Coming down in silver sheets, cooling the city's burning surface .
The paddy fields drink their fill of blue as if each flower is born anew.
Children run with paper boats in hand through the wet soil.

The mountains were shrouded in fog.
By the cooling breath of thunder kissed.
The coconut trees sway here and there, watching the rushing rivers flow.
A symphony played on a tin-roof drum. The long-awaited rains have come.