The sky is dark,
The birds are flying faster than ever,
The air smells like sand and fresh clay,
The wind tastes like dust and ash,
The only tree in the field dances to the rhythm of the wind like a bride on her first dance,
It drips, drops, then pours, all within minutes,
The women hurry to cover their goods,
The zinc roof above them become drum sets for the droplets who pan out a rhythm.
There was frenzy.
Umbrellas invert and feet sink in the pond.
Customers run in for shelter, children run out to play.
Many stand together hurdled in a small corner, waiting for it to be over.
They called it April showers we call it Rainy season.
Let the storms begin!