Indian Rain

how does one feel
when the sky turns to gray
the threat of the pour
heavy in one's soul

amidst the dark clouds
a lightness of feeling
it is but a drizzle
don't be afraid of ripples

though a storm has its warning
and one feel its coming
yet the faith in the being
nay darkness even of evenings

come out of the rain
feel brightness with no pain
life with its suffering
in tolerant vain

don't be afraid of ripples
for life is but a drizzle

Water my soil

As I lay on the grass
I am showered by rays
Of the smiling sun
Crystallizing the sky
Sending nutrients to
The soil drying tears
Of the white winter land

With the fine grain
Of sand in my heated
Deserts your mirage
Appears clear like glass
Watering, quenching
Dousing my abandoned thirst

Opening the hidden pores
Of my dusty brown skin
I am moistened bedewed
And submerged by the warm
Lusty mist of your storm