Grey Clouds

Emergence of grey clouds-

Cudgels the peacock to dance, as it stands so proud;

They warn of the impending downpour

Intoxicating my senses, and exciting my poetic core.

The whistling monsoon wind made its way,

Sweeping through the trees, and the grass that lay,

My impish mind would wish its velocity gets inhibited,

Else the rain-bearing stratus will be blown away, uninhibited.

Indebted I am to nature, especially the wind-

that the clouds could gather together,

Joining hands to cause the shower

Wetting every particle, every surface, every flower.

The heavy rain that fell on the summer-baked soil,

Brought many a hope, and let the tight strands of despair uncoil;

With the world too busy, and I tethered to numerous chores,

Will my breath ever get a moment, to absorb the aroma of petrichor?