The Rain

She plays hide and seek
Where trees lie mobbed together:
A veil of shower
Or just peek-a-boo.

Her games are an open secret,
Like a burqua that covers beauty
And intrigues the onlooker too.

She dances on the ledge
And climbs in through the window.
When the winds chase her elusive arrival,
She gushes through tiny bylanes
And beckons all on the way—
The myna to sing,
The grass to beam,
The puddles to splash,
And lovers to dream.

The dreams shatter as she lashes about,
The puddles meander into streams,
The grass sinks, stamped upon,
But the myna remains on the brink—

On the brink of madness,
She wades through the fog
Climbs each branch higher
Forks further, flits farther,
The friend catches up, at last.

Priyanca Vaishnav