A Pre-Storm Morn Poem by indira babbellapati

Each drop fallen from above
fell at considerable distance
from the other,
tup tup sound filling every corner,
I sit in stoic silence watching
the surprised living organism trembling
in a peculiar cool breeze they're not habituated to...
the clouds gather slowly
as if to a slow aalaap...the earth too looks as if
risen from a heap of grey...
as the distance from the drops reduce,
a lone baby bird is heard
at its frightening worst,
lost as it is in this unusual grey wilderness...
My feet absorb the raindrops...
the greyness still persisting on my toes...