Advent Of Rain

Suddenly

The spout had run dry.

‘Do not shed tears

They would not wet

The ground I stand on,’

Said the acacia tree

Sharpening its thorns

Branches rubbing another;

A rare rush of wind

Had brushed its sides

It can wait for the rains

To fall on the arid soil. 

A drop and then two

Have fallen from above

The rains are here;

The grass and plants

Will sprout new leaves

Nature will smile with us;

There will be music and

Love in the air again,

Forgotten will be

The harsh weather

The bitter stares

And angry looks.