Vernal Showers 

The feel of spring comes with the first rains of the year,

After the scorching and torching fury of the sun early in the year,

Mark the onset of a flamboyant vernal phase in the cyclic march of time.

What's time?we know not and we know next to nothing 

About the conundrum of life. But the fleeting seasons 

And their graceful endowments make us sit back and brood on 

The great designer and engineer who orchestrates it all 

And hides behind a veil of bottomless silence oft leaving behind 

Mysterious finger prints that goad us to the rarified realms of abstractions.

Indeed first rains have a specific charm and appeal.

They fall on the parched glebes quenching the earth 

In the ecstatic and hilarious moments of supplication.

The rain with a thousand silken strings links the fecund 

Earth with the dimensionless mysterious infinity.

The sagging crowns of trees receive it tremblingly,

The miraculous feed of life.This moment of agony and rapture 

Is punctuated with gruesome peels of thunder and lightning.

In the shooting streaks of high voltage flashes,

When moisture of the heavens graces the starving soil 

Silently and unobtrusively the warp and woof of life are laid.

Life repeats in myriad spectra.Life dances in the sun 

After the rejuvenating and therapeutic rains.

The rain dances like a lascivious lass swaying and gyrating,

Whirling and twirling,slanting and fleeting.Rain dances 

With a million nimble feet having jingling anklets,

Flashing its  gaudy golden flashes on her 

Silken mass of cascading hair of cumulonimbus.

Rain dances with a swooning euphoria across the hills and dells 

Glens and vales across the lawns and farms and the oceans.

Rain shrouds us with a timeless love and compassion 

That make us realise that we're more than what we're.

This pen picture of vernal rains is very much applicable

To every bunch of,even ludicrous,imagination.

Childish imagination is closer to nature and exudes

The fragrance of quaint memories that are long forgotten.

I hope this will potentially remind us of the silken promise of spring.

The rains of April, the flowers that they tickle into being,

The deepening lure of sadness that defies language and expression-

This gibberish is fondly hoped to make us remember all that.

This, I hope,will bring us the freshness of April lilies 

The fragrance and innocence of blooming vestal jasmines.

Those gaudy showers spontaneously remind us 

The fragrance loaded nocturnal blooms,melancholy and bliss.

Imagination is a divine attribute,a quality that makes us 

Aware of the pernicious separation that life is.This verbal

Spring might prompt us to the lost avenues of childhood,

The colours,promises and hopes thereof.Like pious 

And passionate pilgrims we wander deep 

Into the forgotten territories of our long begone past.

We rediscover our past innocence sure and certain 

In fertile imagination of the coming generations.

It is fondly hoped that these lines would be received 

With equanimity and an ancient sympathy 

That one feels for a vernal bud that quivers to bloom.

Our battery of imagination reassure us that the long 

March of our species doesn't yet run into a dreary 

Desert land of dry reason.We will still be gladdened

And saddened by the gentle translucent mist

That lingers after the soothing vernal showers.

Imagination is a forum that heralds many fora

Addressing larger audiences.May this vernal rain

Bring out many more vernal shoots and buds

That would make us sit back and think deeply 

About the future of the Earth our only one asylum.

I love this naughty mischievous rain

I am madly in love with her,my wont

She is like my solitude an unassuming friend 

She showers the coolest ambience I have ever experienced 

The softest caress I have ever felt 

The wondrous music I have ever heard 

Thousand instruments orchestrating together 

Followed by thunderous drums percussing now and then 

And dazzling flashes illuminating the dancing 

Foliage drenched in perspiration created a sweet symphony.

I watched this tantalising phenomenon through a louvred window.

George of the woods