When the season of the monsoon on the tin roof strummed its pop tune,
I would lie in bed and listen to its steady rhythmic beat,
To the down-pipes’ noisy clatter of the raindrops splitter-splatter,
And enjoy a welcome respite from the humid summer heat.
As it hammered its crescendo void of any innuendo
That this peppered pelting on the roof was just a passing phase,
This new cleansing of the gutter, of the field and drain a-splutter,
Left a legacy of mem’ries which no passing years erase.
When at times the rain abated, I lay still in bed and waited –
For this was just an interval, a short pause in Nature’s play;
I could hear the green frogs croaking, welcoming this summer soaking –
While my mind turned to the puddles I’d be wading in next day!
© Vivienne Ledlie