Summer Rain

Steaming day
Scalding barefoot torture
Hopping frantically
Junior Indian firewalker
Slightly less spiritual.
Steely clouds gathering
As the sun hides her face
The sultry wind lifts
Then stills
Through the heavy air
A single drop dives to destruction
On the scorching cement
With a nearly audible sizzle
Followed by another
And another
Until the scent of their demise
Ascends in earthy incense
Satisfying as the aroma
Of baking bread
The oblivious scouts,
Vaporized by summer’s skillet
Blaze a trail for the
Following millions
Hurrying to find a dry spot
To homestead for an instant
Until the walkways flood
And the gutters teem
And the sun regains her courage
Mopping up the wet.

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