Rain, glorious rain

The rumbling sound of distant thunder heralded the impending arrival of the storm.  The skies took on a darkened broodiness and the birds fluttered from tree to tree seeking shelter.  Their frantic bird song sounded as if they were warning each other or calling their children home.

The fragrance and heaviness of rain clung to the air in droplets invisible. The coming storm was inevitable.

Soon the sound of raindrops could be heard as well as felt.  They fell lightly at first like a sweet baby’s kiss, then heavier they fell, larger in number and pelting my exposed skin, driving me to shelter.

The thunder was closer and a crack of lightening split the sky.  All the birds were now silent in their places of refuge.  The trees and shrubs were bending and swaying with the wind, the tender flowers taking a beating.

The sound of rain was all around, pelting the windows, falling on the rooftops, splashing into puddles, rushing down the gutters and spilling to the ground, a melodious symphony.

Rain, glorious rain, falling, falling down, refreshing the earth.