I love the season of the Early Rains,
When roadsides thick with dusty laterite,
Are washed by sudden storms, and overnight,
The country-side is clean and green again.
I love to hear the tumult of the rain,
Approaching like a whirl wind in the hush,
That comes before the downpour, and the rush
Of unleashed fury in the wind's refrain.
I love the swish and roar when at it's height,
The ranging water wooshes to the ground,
Till you are deafened by the very sound
Of this wild symphony which floods the night.
And when the storm has brought it's swift release,
The moon soars high and stars begin to peep;
Ah! Then I love the world which lies asleep,
Newborn, and wrapped in swaddling bands of peace
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