From behind the clouds,
a diffident sun peers at the raindrops falling to the ground.
Feisty and frolicsome, they are on a roll.
Is the sun just slothful, a little under the weather?
Or just sitting on the fence?
Look there ,it comes back in a fiery new avatar,
the raindrops quiver, quickly hunkering down on shining leaves.
Just a moment back, they had created magic,
they had created music.
Now they lie quiescent, like brats
at the appearance of the teacher.
In a burst of energy,
a lapwing races forth on its stilt – like legs,
and trips on the rain- drenched ground,
regains its footing; retraces its steps, limping.
Its frantic eyes hunt for the pebble
that had dared to hinder its stroll.
Exuberance regained, its chirps are now a high-pitched treble.
” Pee- wit – pee wit , it says , as if trying to prove some point .
Bemused, I listen to its valiant effort
trying to drown the shrill rhetoric
holding sway, everywhere.
A sunbeam travels down to play with a stray cat
drenched in the rain.
The cat, purrs delightedly, glowing
in the warmth of a perfect day.