Poem: The 1 am Rain

I am finally reading ‘The Fountainhead’. It’s 1 a.m., and there is a short, heavy downpour. And, of course, a poem.

The sudden swoosh
The pitter-patter
The petrichor
The night owl falls for it
Back on the balcony
Unfathomable white skies
Unleashing amber arrows
Shining against campus lights
Broken into liquid remnants
Gulped by the thirsty earth
Come sunrise
The earth would be thirsty
The greens would be clean
The world goes by its business
The 1 am Rain
Never existed for the diurnals.
~Ashok Subramanian © 2024