by Meru S.
After the rain,
Droplets of water release their hold on the tips of leaves
To mingle with the green below,
To quench the thirst of the blades that ripple with the wind.
After the gusts,
A void of silence remains,
Haunted by the fading whistles of lingering echoes,
Waiting in tense anticipation
To be adorned and enlivened
With chirps and buzzes and warbles.
After the drear,
The clouds depart with the wind,
In meek submission to the sun,
Whose wintry gleam is like a jewel—
Cool, precious, scintillating,
Piercing down in shimmering shafts.
The Lighthouse 