sound of water pouring
onto the bright greenscape
dripping & dribbling
through cracked streets
knocking on red tin roofs
making old tiles & walls
so wet it can seep
right through concrete
all day it falls
beginning again
after each brief
ceasefire
the land responds
like an eager lover
no drop wasted
the green growing greener
so green I can barely look
mango trees covered with creepers
the gutters full of monsteras
bright soil made magical
how can I remain the same
when everything around blooms
so ferociously, is made damp
for days & then transformed?
