First Rain

After months without,  
it comes unapologetically —  
greying skies had been hinting a couple of days,  
the wind adding its signal of change,  
dry ground licking its lips in anticipation,
believing reward for good behaviour, resilience and fruitful labour  
was soon due.
My months  
of faithful watering throughout the Summer,  
viewed by plants as discriminatory and laced with ignorant bias,  
are swept into history as the whole region is soaked,  
equally —  
generating gasping hours of sensual bliss  
across the landscape.  
In the garden  
delicate petals of a second flowering  
of roses are hurled onto the hammered ground  
during the grand finale of a massive tropical deluge.  
Suddenly it stops, like a passing motorcade - gone;  
and sounds of glistened dripping fill the air.  
I step outside to smell the moment,  
that once-a-year reminder of salvation’s cycle,  
and pick up some petals  
 arrange them mandala-like on an old plate  
where they lie in state  
before being buried back  
into the wet  
Author's Note
Comp entry for "Shifting Shades of the Season", hosted by The Poetcast Project.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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