a tiny frog
on a rain-soaked leaf,
washed away, leaf-n-all.
Rainy Day Raft [Haiku]
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the rice fields
are at their most verdant;
scent of rain.
The ocean vast
closes in.
Clouds drop.
If the horizon still exists,
it's behind an approaching
wall of gray.
Whatever is closing down
the world has also
drained it of color.
The shadows are black.
The sea foam is white.
Everything else is
some dim, earthy tone.
The sea may have retained
a hint of green or blue,
but it's hard to tell --
so darkened &
gray-infused
are the waters.
I fear the world may shrink
to a dot, like an old timey TV
snapped off, a dot that's
bright white but cold.

even the small mountains
hide their tops in the clouds:
rainy winter day.
All day long, clouds hung low
(pretending rains would come)
but never did winds blow --
and no rain came, therefrom.
"Oh, duplicitous sky,
why have you lied to me?"
It offered its reply,
"What grand audacity!
"You left your umbrella home.
So, what else could I do?
But close the azure dome,
and some respect accrue!"
Rains have come & gone.
Neon red shape-shifts
across the puddles,
and sparkles on glistening
roadways.
People converge
on those rain slick streets,
expecting to be fed.
Vendors work crinkling tarps,
trying to remove them without
sloshing standing water --
working with controlled haste.
Fires are lit and dialed in.
Soon plumes of aroma
from street food delicacies
will stretch down the street:
Silently calling & bewitching.
I hear the rains accelerate From the lightest sprinkle. Soon the streets are aflood; mere sound Makes my fingers wrinkle. The rain continues to ratchet Up: faster & faster. 'Til it's maxed out at a speed that Spells certain disaster. How can it keep up this dire pace? What sponge this cloud must be To hold on high, up in the sky, The contents of a Sea. But, in time, the downshift begins Towards just drips & drops. No matter how boisterous the band, The song, it always stops.