Thunder early morning rumbles,
Blows a distant bhungal’s blare.
Winter, Spring dance and tumble,
Cloudswept jesters of the air.

And to their earthy audience,
Distracted by their screens,
They sweep windchimes euphonious 
Creating quite a scene.

“Is it cold or is it hot?” 
They call to everyone.
“The humans, look how they forgot,
In clouds and rain and sun,

“To get outside and dance and play 
And sing among the trees.
Please join our open-air Bhavai.”
They whisper in the breeze.

Na/GloPoWriMo Day 4 prompt was to write a poem about weather and the change of seasons. The added challenge of rhyming led me to the word Bhavai, a 700 year old Gujarati folk theater form.