After The Storm

Morning arises hesitantly from the sky

Clouds are scudding across the azure

Some like floating fleece looking so new

Sun-specks water-drops remain immobile on ground

To be desiccated by the sun

To allow the earth to get a tan

Trees are like battered women in crisis centres

They finish stoop for the storm now sun

Branches are broken and trees are gone

Beads of water on the palm of remaining leaves

Wetness dribbles like silver droplets

Tapping silent sounds of alphabets

The whistling birds play like a musical parade

Their chorus chant words of liberty

Like the sweet serenade of the sea