Raining in the hills.. Apu Mondal

Here in the hills, when it
Rains, with the heavy
Clouds hanging loose,
One feels, the wind is
Blowing through your
Ribs with it's cold frozen
Fingers, caressing every
Cells and alerting of a
Heavy downpour. Trees
Keep sighing and saying
Rumors. Street dogs lie
Curled up at the end of
The street on deserted
Verandahs and you never
Have signs of human
Habitation, until the old
Farmer turns up with a
Broad smile, leading a
Pair of wet bullocks.

Copyright: Apu Mondal@2020.c.r.