The Storm, the Rain

The clouds roll in, dark and filled with thunder waiting, hoping for the rain to fall.
Blades of grass blow in directions synchronizing with gusts of wind whipping and curling around, moving all that is surrounding us.

We sit on the brightly green grass as it tickles us with each little flicker or sway.
Full of dark blues and grays, the sky transforms colors as the storm; the rain, signals the beginning, the droplets on our noses.

A minute passes, thunder rolls in with loud bangs shaking the ground as it becomes still, the world around us lifeless.
Hot air stiff and motionless silences our caution for the rain to pour.

Crashing down like little bullets from each and every dark cloud, simple streams of water, hitting harshly and swiftly against our faces, clothes, blurring our eyes.

Looking at one another, laughing and running around on the slippery hill, falling and colliding, splashing and pushing each other as the rain sent from dark masses in the sky softens and goes dull.

The world around us distills, eyes lock on as we lay beside one another in the wet muddy grass, covered from head to toe barely recognizable. Smiles grow large, teeth shine and shimmer, the storm, the rain a summer memory that will always remain.