As you sit beside a window pane,
sudden subtle breezes cool the skin.
a thin mask of dust beams from 6 feet high
a waving hand disturbs a flux that flies.

A gush that blows through smooth strands of hair
on summer days tucked in beds on end
and on winter days under open skies
penetrating the blood bursting out of my veins

And then comes the month of the Gods of rain
warning us through harsh forces, silence contains
and then the roof tingles a melody
a sweet smell rises as dust is laid in front of me.

Aromas of mothers fresh cooked food 
of chillies and spices and warm flesh skewed
flowing air speaks of something, every smell speaks out
as you stand still to enjoy natures language somehow.