Mirage

The Sun beats down;
The dead leaves stir;
Crows caw.
A babble of voices
A total chaos
Cacophony?

The Sky darkens
Clouds threaten.
Thunder roars,
rolls.
People hurry
Not all.
And then it rains.
It pours
Bucketsful.
An hour. Two.
Wet people, wet earth,
wet buffaloes, wet leaves,
wet roads, wet wet
It pours on.

The heat seeps in.
Throat dries up
And so does the rain.
No longer
Can I hold
the illusion.

Hunger, sleep,
Pure boredom
Listening to the same old songs
The same old words.

I get up –
It’s time to go