It is Monday and you hover above me
Like a thunder cloud signaling rain.
You shake the slumbering trees
Motioning them to awake.

It is Tuesday and I do not kiss
you. Night turns to day.

Sky is father to earth
and gathers rain to nourish the land.

This morning you kiss the imperfect earth
Goodnight. It has its back turned to the sky.

Outside my window
The wind cools the rain on my back,
The new grass births.

(Paolo Jerome D. Cristobal / September 21, 2010 - Parañaque)