AND THEN THE RAINS

Then the rains came after a long time without. An overcast sky, humid, - and something had changed. And then the rains came after the incredible night of peculiar dreaming wherein moons changed hues and then turned practically neon and raced across the sky. Whiteness then. And the morning. And then the rains came,- a little frog hopping over to the thicket, a cricket going out of the feral shrub or rather the ground underneath. Everything before had gone terrene, flaxen from the sun- was parched. And then the rains came- the late morning rains- mythic somehow, poetic in a way,- atmospheric and cinematic- they danced their drops sideways along windows and droplets then sat on sills and parapets lazily, happily. Ten million and more downward parts, - going to grates and shingles, to loams and church tops- to the neon signs in the broken town that said PSYCHIC ADVISOR, WALK INS WELCOME, to the motels, the cranes, the impossibly long and wide fields beyond. And then the rains came and it was better again.

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