I do miss those monsoons. This I had originally titled “The rain again.” It always did fit my mood back then. In the desert, at that time, it seemed to rain almost every day. Particularly very late at night. It was light, and beautiful, and its aroma was like nothing else anywhere in the world.
Indeed, my dear. Unlike anywhere else I’ve ever been.
I often paced the yard singing arias to The Child as I awaited the rain that year.
I am sorry to see that the embedded link to your sonnet isn’t working.
Fixed, my love.