Preview edition — Poet of Rain & Harvest is still in progress. The poem is as it appears in the video; the commentary is a working draft.
A fine rainy evening descended on the village with a chill crispy breeze bellowing over the quiet sands and soft clays
I felt the calm winds blowing through my hands as I sped with good vibe to join my friends to play
Beaten and soaked in the rain, we splashed water ripples and laughed with so much joy like no other day
Immersed with comfort and echoes I listened to the cool rains drop like drumbeats in the serene surroundings
The rains beat with pitched rhythm and mixed sounds of symphony
the gentle whistle of winds made the trees blow to and fro
As tiredness grew, I listened to the dancing tunes of the rain which fell like beats of a lullaby
Rains dropped into pans, metals and clay from the rooftops which gave a melodic pitter-patter
So gentle they fell, masking all other noises
Reaching homewards, the cold sent shivers and made my teeth chatter
At bedtime, I thought of Nature, its beauty and ability to compose songs so serene
From songs of nightingale and chirping insects to this cool rain beats of sweet breeze and symphony
The cool beats made me marvel from thoughts of worries to cherished good memories
Memories of playing in mud puddles, jumping in rain showers and making paper boats to sail on rain water came to mind with fluidity
Flipping through a book of colorful poems and reminiscing, cool rain beats transcended me to sleep
Coziness carried me through the voyages of dream and woke me up with the warmest of touch to a new morning
Poet of Rain & Harvest · Hear it on the channel ↗
Commentary
This poem listens to rain. A village evening, friends splashing in puddles and a child falling asleep to the storm are all told through beats, rhythms and music, so that the rain itself becomes a band.
On “a fine rainy evening” a “crispy breeze” blows over the village. The speaker rushes “to join my friends to play,” and they are “beaten and soaked in the rain,” splashing “water ripples” and laughing “like no other day.”
Later the speaker listens as the rain drops “like drumbeats,” beating “with pitched rhythm and mixed sounds of symphony.” Rain on “pans, metals and clay” makes “a melodic pitter-patter,” so gentle it masks “all other noises.”
At bedtime the speaker thinks of nature’s “ability to compose songs so serene,” remembers “playing in mud puddles” and “making paper boats,” and falls asleep as “cool rain beats transcended me to sleep.” The poem ends with “a new morning” and “the warmest of touch.”