HOW long must we wait for the rain? When the heat scorches the plain and the sweat sullies the flesh, a drop we pray to quench our yearning. We envision the flood, and yet we bask in the cruel sting of the sun. And in the month of May, the first rain appease our sunken spirit that lingers amid the inferno. We dance. The mud splatter. We cup the drops with both hands. Nothing can stymie that shower. Every grass, every rose rejoices.
Come. The rain has finally fallen.