A leafy wish...and a morn...

Like a leaf
Soaked
In wine of rainy cool sizzling
Like poems in her drizzling continuous
Like a flow gathering on her till it she overcomes
Comes a morn...
And a small sleepy half wakeful dawn
Where people have not yet dared
To go out in rains
For poetry they spared
In their pillowy death temp...
Writes in drops poetry eternal,

And in gardens unkempt
Like a leaf...
Soaked
In blood of sappy life ,
Poems do hold on to their monsoony spray
On such a wet moist begin of a joyous day...
As light mellowed also do hold on
To the mirth of an awakening of a dawn...

And those streets
Drizzled rained wet drenched soaked
They also like Nature evoke
Continuous relentless
Poems bred usual in woods and forests...
Much like once
Standing on a bridge
One sage of a Man, a bit pedantic,
Found Her,
Nature
Like plains, hills, woods,
Coming down to his city unrisen, unawakened...
In terms purely English,
And yet like a tune naturally so devised
That  Nature from His lips had a perfect rise,
Perhaps on such a sleepy misty drizzling morn...
Varied completely though in both space and time.