Goa in the Rains

 

"Hope it rains some more"

So we wished, as little boats from paper we made,

Saw them glide through winding streams,

Just enough rain for the wells it seemed,

To make them fill to their brims,

And yearning and hoping to have fun

On the day of the Feast of St. John.

The first showers soothed the earth

So parched from the summer drought,

Roaring thunder, brilliant lightning;

The skies darkened and the gentle wind

Blew across the land a whiff,

An earthy smell that till today

I cannot unravel, describe or tell.

Then, for many days it did not rain at all,

God's way to "scare" us all,

That's what my granny thought.

So the folks in the village were much concerned too

Grandma had them summoned without much ado

"We have to pray" she said,

"There is nothing else we can do".

On a beaten path

Making a bee-line

Through the fields she led the folks

Carrying a little statue of St. Anthony

Treading their way to the Holy Cross

To sing to her favourite saint a Litany.

That same night

Incessantly the rains fell

Had all the wells so swell

Grandma said it was a miracle

Her prayers were answered

God had at last cast His spell!

Excerpt from my book GOA  -  Memories of My Homeland

(Poems & Short Stories)