I stepped outside
I had called. I stepped outside to see a
cloud.
Solitary, it glided alone against
a twilight sky. Titanic in shape its
wide spread attempted to hover calmly. Yet
within, the cloud enclosed a fermenting tempest. Barely containing, almost breaking, lightning tore through its seething interior.
Flashes of brilliance would snap.
Flashes of light would clap against the vision. In their ripping breaks, they displayed the strenuous
effort made by the cloud. All feeble it
seemed. The cloud would break. It had to break. It all seemed to be merely a show, a fine façade
maintained for whose sake I’m not sure. Yet it was the soil beneath that paid the
price.
The ground beneath desperately ached
for the possibility of precipitation. To
longed to be touched by a liquid kiss.
Its cracked soil had been penitent for so long. A station made in folly as the ground could
not remember any offense that had been given.
It was a fools stand off. The
cloud knew the ground was dry. The could
longed to coat and caress the ground.
Upon closer inspection… it was the ground that appeared
indifferent. Withered blades of grass
desperately appeared to stay strong. By
succumbing to the rain, the ground knew it would be lost in an uncontrollable
flood. The water would pour over her and
she would become lost in the little death that erupts from life. But perhaps most frightening off all was that
in the deluge the soil would feel. It
would breathe again. It would live
again.
So the grass turned its blades
from the building tempest. The cloud
contained.. As the lightning increased
in tempo and rapidity… I wondered how long the tensioned ballet could last.
I saw her standing in the field. Her eyes were closed. The cloud could bear no more. Drops heavy and laden began to fall. She turned her face smiling towards the gentle touch thumping. The resistance of the cloud was seen to break as the drops grew heavy, thick, and increasing in rapidity. Her smile spread across her face as she felt the remembered simple joy of the cool traces falling on her face and soaking through her hair. In the face of the curtain sheets... she laughed euphorically. To be caught, to be swept, to live again.
But for now, the action was subdued. The uneasy truce remained.
