9:00 to 9:28 pm, awaiting a storm

the sky has faded from lavender to indigo, and a cool city breeze sighs through the branches of the big maple across the street. the branches wave and stretch, as if shaking off slumber. i can see the gleam of three street lamps, like stars on bended stems. if i close my eyes i can tell myself the sound of the traffic is the breaking of distant waves. few people are out tonight, although their are cars. usually by this time i can hear the noise and music and laughter from the bar across the street. it's raining, and the pavement gleams like satin ribbon stretching towards the near-empty center of town.

the rain is picking up now, the first plump, juicy drops throwing themselves like flame-seeking moths against my window screen. i hear voices outside the bar, and another car passes - the city air is warm and humid, the night is holding its breath, in anticipation of something...

the sky, she shouts, suddenly and without warning, not a rumble of anger or fear or a cry of pain, but a suddent outburst of ironic joy. she blushes with a sudden flash of lightning, then, without appology, cries out again.

i am waiting for more rain, a euphoric cloudburst, to form great puddles and cause my son's sidewalk drawings to run together, to wash away the streaks of smudged lamplight in a downpour of ecstatic tears and flashing laughter.

but it doesn't come. the rain slows, perhaps even stops. no wonder she blushes, the sky is being coy now, teasing the city streets with the promise of refreshment. perhaps there will be no storm tonight, the city air was waiting for nothing.

for a moment it is i who wants to cry and shout. i want to go walking in that downpour, to let the cooling breeze tug at my dreads, feel my bare feet splashing through chalky puddles on the sidewalk below. but the warm humid air makes promises it has no intention of keeping and the insistant pawing of little hands seeking milk stifles that desire. there will be no storm. time to nurse the little one, and put her to bed. no storm tonight.

perhaps tomorrow...

 

The rain was coming down in buckets here on the northwest side. For a while the sky turned a really funky color, too. It was werid. There wasn't all that much thunder and lightning, but the rain was freakin' intense for about 15-20 minutes. I was in the car when this happened. The visiblity was terrible.

 

over here near downtown we only got about a minute of real rain, but it's been spittin' at us on and off all day. i was really hoping for a real thunderstorm. i need a real thunderstorm. i might take a brisk midnight walk anyway. i wish there was a place around here for coffee that was open later than 11, besides dunkin' donuts.

check your email. still carless? you doin' anything tomorrow? i may be able to get that mead to you if dave's not busy.

 

ugh...i ushly love the rain...but its not stoping...its like frickin noahs ark over here

 

the herbalist at my food co-op says he thinks the reason why i've found so many 4-leaf clovers this year is because between the heat and the rain, everything's been growing like crazy. he says he's never seen growth like this this time of year, everything's so lush. our first pick-up for our CSA share is sunday; it should be a good harvest. it's usually just greens this time of year, but i bet they'll be a lot of them! i'm planning on going hiking saturday, if it doesn't rain more. the woods should be beautiful...but probably full of bugs!

 

Did the storm arrive on time?

 

it must be those damn chemtrails!

 

do you think she even remembers what storm this was?

 

This thread is over two years old, people!

 

Two years old, but written so intensely. Would it be something remembered intensely, or would it be forgotten?

 

i agree it was beautifully written

 

Japans trying to predict storms 30 years in advance.

http://www.breitbart.com/news/2006/07/18/D8IUNBSO0.html

The weatherman here isn't even good for three days.

 

Jeezuz! Who dug up this old corpse?

I actually do remember the storm, although it never arrived. Well, not the meteorological storm; my marriage did disolve, I broke free and left, as I was anticipating watching the skies that night. I'm still sort of homeless actually, although I'm back in Rochester, dammit.

Christ, I'd forgotten I'd written this thing!

 

See the storm broke and washed you clean intensely.

 

Well, I don't think it's over yet. The storm, that is. What a long strange trip it's been. I'm more-or-less homeless now, and Rochester I feel is getting ready to eject me again.

It's the journey, not the destination.

Damn, man, why'd you haul this old stiff out of the morgue?

 

I have no idea why.

Sometimes its good to look at the map whilst you're halfway there and remind yourself why you started the journey.

I hope the housing situation turns out good for you.

 

Well, it's a learning experience.

 

Very poetically and beautifully written kitty. You definitely have a way with words.

 

is it wrong that i'm jealous of the idea of walking around at midnight in a thunderstorm. we dont really get them here.

ps, deus ex machinus, hope it all works out well for you kitty