The secret breath of summer
curls from his lips, blurs
the gray, melting world
on the other side of the glass.
Early monsoon runs
lightly on tin roofs,
then swiftly retreats
to the greens of distant hills.
Doors along the narrow line
of houses burst open with children
even as banana leaves bend to drop
the last beads of rain down their palms.
He is among them, this boy
with the breath of summer.
The palpable scent of earth
roused by rain fills his lungs.
He runs in zigzags to his friends,
making sure to hit every puddle
with every leap. The louder
the splash, the better.
Mud must be spread far and wide.
The undeclared ritual
to celebrate the slightest change
of tropical seasons.
This appears in that other website I now loathe due to all the one-sided changes the admin keep making. They also practice something that I consider stealing. I should never have joined there, but I did find some interesting folks who have now become very good friends.