#MonsoonPoem

The incessant storm chants a hymn,
Her sheets of fat droplets drumming
On the sheet metal rooftops and
Turning unpaved sandtracks to slime.

Thunder rolls as she claps irregular beats,
Lightning flashes with every step,
And the children at her feet clap hands
Over their ears and run inside, upstairs.

Her voice is wind, now whispering,
Now wailing, bending the forests,
Downing the powerlines,
Churning brown waters into creamy, lethal foam.

© Miyamoto Yoshi