The Last Rains

Washed air
Wet streets
Clogged drains
The last rains
Are not like the first
Quenching soil thirst
Fragrance of trampled seeds
Grown up prematurely to bud
Leaves limp
With old summer steam
Paper boats with footprints
Shoes smelling of resin feet
Umbrella hinges greased

Thunder sounds
A recorded drone
Lightning welding sky wires
Cars plodding sleepy tyres
People with bored eyes
Too parched to drench
Grass grown long
Hiding earth
Birth

The last rains
Are not like the first

~FV