Night turns to grey, after the rain.
A murky mist slithers across muddy waters.
A lost soul wonders through untamed bushes.
Into the day the mist slowly rises, after the rain.
At the rivers edge black swans drift amongst decaying logs.
Spores are freed sending their musky aroma into the early morning fog.
Leaving behind a long unforgiving dry, after the rain.
The spirits dancing for the rains have come.
Dew drops feel the warmth of the sun.
Tickled by the sound of water, after the rain.
Scorched creeks sing as frogs surface again.
The world comes to life after the rain.