THE LIGHT SHOWERS

The Light Showers 

The copper light of autumn's dying sun,
Kisses the hills where harvest day is done.
A village maid, with eyes the shade of wheat,
Walks homeward, bare feet light on dusty street.

The clouds unfurl, a tapestry of grey,
And pearlescent rain descends in gentle spray.
Each drop a brushstroke on her sun-kissed skin,
A fleeting diamond where a smile had been.

Her saffron dress, with threads of marigold,
Drinks in the downpour, turning richly bold.
The windblown rain, a whisper soft and low,
Whispers secrets only village maidens know.

She closes her eyes, a smile upon her face,
A canvas painted with autumn's sweet embrace.
The copper rain, a cleansing, soft refrain,
Washes away the dust, and soothes the pain