Must Savour the First Rain

Must Savour the First Rain Like love, it comes after a long pining The smell of the first meeting Of the falling water and the fine soil Reminiscent of my first lick of love Disarming my otherwise guarded heart Lost defenses to the soothing art Of the complementarity of the scotching soil And the cold and freely falling rain Tip-tapping at the back of my shoulder As I search for broken asbestos pieces To play my ‘padda’ The cleaned up air breathe Spurs my insides as an infant’s first suckle Of her mother’s breast The pat-pat of the rain on my roof lullaby me Into unremembered sleep Must savour the first rain