I like it when the monsoon comes.
Everything is so verdantly, unashamedly green.
Small weeds grow in the most untenable of places.
The sky is a perfect shade of cobalt-grey, and when the clouds leave, its like they strip the friendliness from the sun.
And the air smells different too. Not dustily hungry, anymore.
And rain.
Portly drops of rain, and the sound they make when they splatter on the ground.
And the cold pinpricks of the small drops.
And the sound of rain, like very large anklets heard from far away.
And the wind that heralds the coming of the rain.
And after the thunder stops, the silence, that sounds so alive.
I like it when the monsoon comes.