An overcast sky,
The light rays of the setting sun is piercing through the clouds, 
I am sitting in the cane chair at the verandah. 
Looking at the evening sky, clouds are getting heavier and darker,
There are no white wispy clouds in the distance,
It's going to rain any moment.
The wind starts to blow,
I can hear the sound of wind whispering through the trees,
The powerful wind sends the branches of trees flying, unripe mangoes falling too;
The scent of flower from the freshly blown buds,
Droplets of water start forming on the blades of leaves.
I can feel the wind, smell the storm coming.  
The thunder and lightning begins,
The birds are restless in their shelters; spider-webs are blowing in the breeze, 
The rain is drumming wildly on the roof and splattering against the glass. 
The moss in the cracks is shining; rain makes it many shades greener.
I feel like stomping and splashing my feet on the overflowing puddles.
Nature wears a beautiful look and romanticizes me. 
The rain takes over,
I can feel the rain splashing all over my face; hair is blowing in the wind,
A cup of tea and a book on my lap, humming a rainy day song;
The pitter patter of the rain is so relaxing that makes me lost in my dreams,
The cracking sounds of thunder startle me, scurrying for cover,
The rain takes me back again and again.

Aeman T Rasul resides in the US and writes for her own pleasure. She mostly pens travel journals. She is trying to leave a foot-print on fiction and poetry writing.