like this cold
wet drizzling morn...
cuckoo's songs are intermittent
and the sky is though dark...
but this cold wind
against it jacket collar flapped
and the streets are lovely
as good as any other street
of the town...
an onset of monsoon...
a southern tune...
a thatched roof
and drops of water dripping
from someone's gate
and railings...
and here and there fallen twigs
and small branches of trees...
and leaves...
and flowers
wet and soft
last night-
the rain them on purpose perhaps dropped...
on the streets...
on lids of eyes...
on pages of heart...
and also at the spot
where the road diverts...
and occasional thunder
of clouds...
like this cold wet morn-
a sensation
a road pretty slim and long...
and the jog...
jacket collar against the wind flapped...
and grass on my feet
cold and yet so sweet...
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