Pitta-pattering
drips
drops
splotches
splashes
tinkling sounds
against the metal above
The rain is here.

Silence.

And once again it begins
ripples of sound wash across the horizon
tiles, corrugated irons, polycarbonate Perspex sheet
their sounds uniquely different
but at the same time, the same.

A flash of light
the wait, a count of distance
crackling from the skies above.
This is what spring is like, sometimes.

Once more, silence
the oppressive heat lower but now the humid
sticky,
clammy veil forms in the air and surrounds.
Frustrated people call for more, break this on and off
bring forth the deluge
the relief
cleanse the layer between heavens and earth of our daily residues
and bring calm into the morning,
so we can sleep
in ease.