The morning bright,
Hopes fully in sight,
Then a dark cloudy mass
suddenly stamped its shadowy class,
It ate the sun
with thundering chuckle and darkish pun,
A sudden spell of September rain,
The birds retreated with little gain,
It seemed it’ll rain for long,
Sky’s tears fell with depressive throng,
Too much rain isn’t good,
All go with a sad brood,
But then the sun lifted the eastern veil,
Light flickered with a victorious feel,
The winds swept away the cloud
hanging with its dark shroud,
Dark, gray, bluish, white,
the sun emerges bright,
Quickly happens all this,
Rain-bathed trees glisten with bliss,
The birds come out with chirpy showers,
Drops glisten on flowers,
And everything is again
as it’s supposed to be after a brief rain,--
A normal rain-washed day
with its sun, clouds, rains, winds,
all having an equal say,
The day accepts all,
These are all its call,
The rise and the fall,
It won’t be a day
without its undulating ray,
Just like life won’t be life
without its order and strife.
