Birds called as the rain began to fall.
A glowing cloud floated towards the trees
until the rising wind pierced its light
and curtains of rain silenced the magpie’s call.
After a time the sun returned and saw
a landscape lit from within, the grey clouds
covering their jewel of light and summer trees
holding dense flowers in orchards of red.
The bird sang again too, released from water.
Dry calls now, foreshadowing the coming days
of heat, the thick shadows dividing the ground,
the wind lifting the heavy veil of the earth
and showering the sky with reflections of solid glory,
the inheritance of rain, the conquerer of airborne kingdoms.