It’s been so hot. The sun, merciless.
This afternoon it started to get cloudy. Father noticed the sycamore branches tossing in the breeze.
We were talking and saw a flash.
“Was that lightning?”
I went out on the porch, drawn by the wind.
The clouds are dark and light, confused and tumbling. The oak branches sway.
Thunder shakes the floor of the porch, painted boards warm under my bare feet.
My hair lifts in the wind. It ruffles my skirt.
I notice it coming down the street.
“Look, rain” I say to my youngest, wriggling in my arms.
It is preceded by the pungent smell of rain on concrete.
Slowly the storm settles in, calmly rinsing the lawn and my poor flowers.
The air is cooler now.
I need to get ready for vespers, but I stay another minute watching the rain.
God is merciful.
Praying With My Feet 
what a lovely description; thank you.
and love the veggie tale post too! 🙂
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