What is this curious moisture falling from the sky?
Fat droplets hit the streets, steam rises in a thick gauzy haze, the cracked earth groans and fills with small streams as the rain suddenly pours forth in great raging torrents.
Our feverish days have broken in sweet relief.
“…my spirit flew in feathers then, that is so heavy now, and Summer pools could hardly cool the fever on my brow…”
I remember a day in young childhood when I was plagued a long weekend with a great shaking pyrexia, which had me delusional from the swelter and filled my ears with a tremendous persistent ringing.
Cool cotton washcloths placed across my brow soon dried up and none of my great gulps of water brought any comfort. Though still a child, I felt a queasy sting within my abdomen and realized, for the first time, that I might actually die.
It was right when I reach this threshold that I fell into a deep sleep and dreamed a great procession of terrors, which made me wonder if I had sunk into some manner of madness. The world was all bright and terrible, a great beating Sun was crushing me into desert sands. More ringing and baritone tremolos filled my ears until I surrendered to the void.
My next thought was moisture. I felt droplets beaded upon my upper lip, sweat drenching my upper chest and back. My hands were clammy and my long shaggy hair stuck to the back of my neck.
Then the cool.
I opened my eyes to a dawning Summer morning, with the bright green treeline blazing against the soft foggy dew of morning. I felt newly-born, with my senses restored. A great joy enveloped me, as my considerable intellectual and emotional resources flared into full flower.
Life filled my senses and I was alive again.
Blessed rain has dampened the dust and freshened the dead dry brown underbrush.
All is restored… for now.