Rain splats, shifts, drip-drops, spotting our skin  and reminding us that we have bodies as well as brains--that our souls are clothed through God's creativity with flesh that lets us sense in a marvelous way. The rain drops harbor coolness where they catch in our clothing. They scent of relief--joy for hot, tired plants; for hot, tired people; for hot, cracking soil. A song describes Jesus' name as being "like the fragrance after the rain." I want to embrace that wonder of His Being--to let Him catch me in my hot, dry ruts and wake me to a world rejoicing in His life.

thunderstorm

A heavy mass of water and dust, I walk gracefully upon this grey stage.
I stand in the center as my audience below me walk hastily armed with umbrellas.
I start my performance with a low booming tune.
my voice crackles as lights violently dance as back-up dancers around me.
My song is so moving that I cause even myself to shed tears of ice and rain.
I would've appetiated a standing "O" for my hard work, but my audience has taken to shelters to avoid my baseball-sized tears.
I take a bow and this is how a proper storm is done.