Pummeling Rains

A flower blossomed, ravenous for the raindrops to adorn her silky petals with their glittery reflections and pressured touches. Petals perfectly cupped, the rain accepted pleasantly into them slowly dripping down like sweet honey into parched earth. Blooms thirst for that which falls from the heavens fatefully caught by sturdy, yet gentle petals.

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Morning Reverie

It is in the last falling drop of rain that I remember the reasons between transitions. The last few molecules are the ones that mix between the coolness of the water and the warmth of the sun finally starting to peek through the clouds. It is those dissipating pieces of fluff that connect you to the world above and that one below all within the layers of the atmosphere—so think…which route will you take?

 

Many of these moments are combined with tantalizing thoughts of what is and what has been, thoughts of what will be quietly hidden away in the breaths that I take. I find myself waiting for a lightning strike to shake me into action. I find myself seeking out fast-moving clouds in a late morning sky where all that you see is gray and movement even though you know the sun should have been visible by now. It is I who waits like the hydrated ground while the raindrops falling from the leaves gently pummel my surface like a persistent knock at my door—the truth is waiting to get in.