it started as a pitter patter. then streaks cut shapes across the windows, splitting dust, separating particles of still earth. and then the rain gushed, cascading onto the ground like scattered marbles, thick globules of shattering glass. between short bursts of air the clouds heaved, rehearsing for the new onslaught.
the storm is replenishing, they say. there will be new grass under the dewy surface. but from inside the house, with darkness looming above, the end seemed a distant memory.
