The Corrupt Rain Poem by Kesav Venkat Easwaran

As I approached the valley
on the outskirts of the hill,
I heard it would drizzle

Glad that I thought myself lucky,
I believed it wouldn't make me sweat
and would keep my feet cool
during my intended climbing

But who could have known that
it would turn out to be a storm
in the middle, making me
drenched and soaked,
sweeping me away down and down,
and dropping me flat
to where I began my intentions

Downhill,
I heard the wind thanking the rain
for its solicited support.

Corrupt rain!