Rainy Ballet

By Prithvi Gupta

The wind whispered in my ear,

“What are you creating today?”

My sculptures spoke,

In the roaring smoke,

“The petrichor of a rainy ballet.”

My curtains huffed and sighed,

As they were tormented by the winds,

“Caress their cheeks, oh naughty glee,

This is my earnest plea.”

My sword pierced the crust of paper,

And smeared it with ink.

With an arched brow,

I sniffed around and I just couldn’t think.

That’s when the rainy arrows

Darted down from heaven,

They hit the soil and relieved it from

Last summer’s aggression.

Amongst the musty aroma of the fresh algae,

And the toads jumping around,

All I could hear was

The soothing peace of the ground.

The sun emerged from the clouds,

Boasting its light to compete,

After hours and hours of attack,

It was time for the arrows to retreat.

The warriors that were left behind,

Were liberated by the sun’s might.

All the residue of the cloudy field,

Was a spectrum streaking light.

By Prithvi Gupta