The boisterous thunder and sheets of driving rain
during the heat of the day have gone.
In their place there is cool darkness and quiet, almost
melodic, gentle rain.
Mischievously, cool breezes flirt with my skin…then run away.
They caress and retreat, sly with their touch.
In the temporal peace I hear individual rain drops gently
land on tree leaves.
Tap- tap- tap as water drips and dribbles from the down spout then
the cheerful splat causing my sidewalk to glisten in the soft porch light.
Occasionally interrupted by a slowly passing car, the frogs
croon to each other songs that only they and their Maker understand.
When I try… I imagine that I can hear the thirsty grass roots hum
greedily as they drink in the water, like a hungry baby latching on to the breast.
Fresh and pristine from the afternoon scrubbing and the gentle rinse of the night,
the air is sweet and almost intoxicating.
I stand on the porch and reflect on how rarely I remain still, quiet