First monsoon in town | Poem

The sky above, a bruised and heavy grey,
Hung low and thick, foretelling the new day's way.
A sudden gust, a whisper through the trees,
Then silence fell, disturbed by distant unease.

First, just a drop, a singular, cool kiss,
Upon the pavement, hinting at what's amiss.
Then scattered flecks, like hurried, unseen feet,
Dancing a jig upon the dusty street.

Umbrellas bloomed, like mushrooms, bright and round,
As scurrying figures traversed sodden ground.
Shopfronts blurred behind a watery screen,
The world outside, a vibrant, dripping scene.

The smell of earth, of long-dry dust made wet,
A primal fragrance, one can't soon forget.
Curtains of silver veiled the distant view,
Washing the buildings, making all anew.

Inside, a hush, a cozy, softened light,
As thunder rumbled, piercing through the night.
The town, transformed, by nature's grand design,
Lost in the rhythm of the monsoon's sign.