Summer 2023: 42, The Rains in March, Vandana Kumar

It’s a lie Rains never had a distinct season So they sit at the edge Of a ledge At the tip of a leaf Ready to drop Their farewells are never complete That’s why they knock at our doors Now and then Lingering Like all that is in transit Visiting our many homes Visiting our unsaid goodbyes Soiling packed cartons Those unsure Where they have to move They show up suddenly That they never quite get So they go and drench spring flowers… A villager’s crop Not every thirst shows up Like a crater in the middle of The Summer road