The Night It Rained

The moon lulled itself

Into few second-long naps,

The winds whispered the smell

Of the oncoming rains

As ants did a tight-rope

On the tree's sleeves.

The dog pricked its ears,

Each time the tiny hurricane

Of dried leaves whirled round.

The spider attempted to balance itself

On the maze of its own making,

As the web threads strummed

A happy tune

In response to the wind.

The lull before the storm,

Was becoming too much of a bulk

For the clouds to bear,

Before a slant of water droplets,

(Some drying midway through

The atmosphere's layers,)

Stamped their arrival

On the parched layers

Of land, leaves and minds.

Streaks of lightning

Conducted a survey

On the distribution of downpour

Clicking vintage tinted photographs.

The rains slowed down to a drizzle,

The insects buzzed through a banter,

The moon tried to

Sneak through the clouds,

Surprised at its reflection

In a puddle on the street.

The morning wakes up 

Smelling a misty presence 

Of the (previous) night it rained.