Monsoon and other Poems by Glenn Whalan

MONSOON Hard buckshot comes the rain, the first monsoon rain,  the first ever real rain for months.  All conversation dies, all plans are abandoned,  even dogs raise their heads to the sky.  The heat disappears, now almost forgotten  as some of us shiver out our disbelief. Old stains on the road are washed out of sight, dead ice cream is hosed away, buried at last.  Talk is redundant, too noisy to hear,  this torrent commands all attention.  The sce...