Monsoon

Monsoon

Monsoon. There is no sunset, the evening grey is just deepening into blackness. The birds don’t seem to care about sunsets – a koel burbles its cheerful call and two parakeets screech their way across the leaden sky. From the airport comes the noise of a plane rumbling out its mechanical thunder. The sound of the rain on leaves rises and falls as if someone were twiddling a volume knob, in no particular relation to the gusts of wind. I’m kept busy waving away the barometric flies trying to land on my coffee cup.

overcast

the dish antenna points

where the moon might be