A year of dust – a night of rain


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In the settling dust of cricket- song evenings
when the school books tumble onto beds
and satchels are shaken out
when the flickering brass lamp throws moving shadows
over the framed pictures of deities
and on children playing on straw mats
when the old woman fans herself
with the literary supplement of the newspaper
chanting verses from her favourite scriptures
waiting for the power to be restored
When the raindrops plop into a bucket
finding the gaps in the red terracotta roof
and hearty frogs croak late into the sultry night
and the road becomes a brown shallow stream
A torch glow precedes each passing shadow
street dogs hold baying competitions
and the hungry cow moos for her grassy supper
It is then that an artificial world within recedes
letting the senses to soak in the night rain
and petrichor replaces machinery fumes
and life seems worth all its struggles
©Reena Prasad 4rth April 2013

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