You can't see in this dusky picture, that I'm looking out my window and waiting for the rain. You can't see how still it is, that the white hawthorn blossom on the left seems to hang there in the dark, mingling its sweetness with the roses in the pregnant air.
You can't hear the thunder, or see the flash of lightning fill up the sky. I wish you could count heartbeats with me, and wait for the rain. I think the storm is moving out to sea - the first lightning seamed across the sky above the beach, nearly touching the mountain, a searing yellow fissure in the mist. Then all I could see was the flash and flicker.
I went out to check the clothes, about to leave them there - but I felt the fine rain mist my face, a drop here and there, and I took everything in. Still no downpour yet, but I'm waiting.
It did that today, on my way home - first a few drops from a hazy sky, then it lowered, and as I was driving, a torrent hammered down. Within minutes, there were inches of water on the dry roads, traffic slowed as the flash puddles formed. Such music. I drove home through what the kids call the Treeway, a little twisting hilly road completely covered over with tree branches. This is the season when they're in full leaf, and it's shady and beautiful. I could feel their joy, at the bathing of the cool rain on their hot leaves. Oh, it fell so hard and fast. I was elated, laughing to myself as I drove along. I turned of the music to hear the rain drum on the roof and hiss on the road. I'm hoping for more - these weeks of blue sky and hot sun have been great, but the land feels parched, pools need filling up again.
Maybe it's moved on, though, it's still not falling. I was hoping for another celebration.