Afternoon Rain

The view outside the window
Is a living canvass
Where mists erases the trails
Of a sunrise
The green mountain
Is a palette of olives, apple green and mint
The blue sky is gone
When the landscapes turned to fire
At the break of the late chilly morning

The cool mountain air
envelopes lovers
who are about to part
the drummer circle
sound the earth’s call
so trees shall stand and withstand
storms and tropical depressions
for a hundred more years
while the moon
in its full glory
form a lace of light
around the mountain like a lullaby
so the wind shall never forget a chant
of our forefathers
for the pride of heirs and forbears