Clouds gather, conspiring above,
Their silver threads weaving tales,
They waltz across the canvas of sky,
Brushstrokes of mist, veils of veiled trails.
The thirsty earth opens its arms,
Receiving the gift of liquid life,
Soil sighs, roots stretch in gratitude,
As rain seeps into every hidden strife.
And then, the fragrance—petrichor,
Released from dampened soil’s embrace,
A perfume of ancient secrets,
Whispered by raindrops with grace.
Puddles form, mirrors of the sky,
Reflecting branches, birds, and dreams,
Children splash, laughter echoing,
In rain-kissed puddles, joy redeems.
The weeping willow bows low,
It's leaves catching tears from above,
A mourning dance,
A sacred vow,
To honor memories and lost love.
And when the storm subsides,
Rainbows emerge,
Bridging worlds,
Promises etched in spectral hues,
A covenant renewed, unfurled.
©classics
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