Reflected silver from the glossy leaves.
A book to read while sheltered from the rain
A cup of tea and songs to fill my brain
of water slowly falling from the eaves.
I watch the greenery of growing grain
that thrive in blessings that the soil receives
The summer petrichor in my belief
translates to verdancy of our terrain.
Afterwards the clouds divide, and rays
of evening sunlight make these emeralds
a royal fortune, turning into mist.
I never tire of these summer days
in rain, in sun so far from netherworlds
of winter blizzards, is this gentle tryst.