Mirage

The Sun beats down; The dead leaves stir; Crows caw. A babble of voices A total chaos Cacophony? The Sky darkens Clouds threaten. Thunder roars, rolls. People hurry Not all. And then it rains. It pours Bucketsful. An hour. Two. Wet people, wet earth, wet buffaloes, wet leaves, wet roads, wet wet It pours on. The heat seeps in. Throat dries up And so does the rain. No longer Can I hold the illusion. Hunger, sleep, Pure boredom Listening to the same old songs The same old words. I get up - It's time to go