Hour Before The Rain

Moirangthem Minakshi Devi
Hour ere the rain, a sight a poet in me witness,
A panorama before my eyes in broad daylight.
Students boarding  a bus in a rush,
A clatter of jackhammers mending craked up roadside,
The traffic police panting whilst easing up a rowdy gridlock,
A cyclist fuming by over perforated tyre,
Whilst on a bench under the Acacia at Kanglapath rest two lovers.
A juvenile in flimsy sillper,slipping through the crowd with a tea-kettle,
And a businessman with potbelly seen to lure customers.
A hurried city with wide hustle and bushel,
A loud noise knead with the air.
Caught in the wift of the city, I ponder,
If I could ever see a phase of serenity?

Minutes after the sky blurs,sheets of grey cloud crawls in.
A rill of chill air in the leaves and a soft insistent sound,ere a looming downpour.
It now rains,with a willingness to calm the city to allay tensity and cacophony
A state of tranquillity after all the bewilderness,
The ringing on the ground of the vertical trickles,
Where passer-by grope at corners in pursuit of shelter.
A clamour of constant horns and crowd eases up,
A state of silence follows,where all surrenders to the Nature.
 It all vanishes with the sun, when rain  appears,
The noisy apparatus evaporates, as it has rained.