Blessed Rain

The world is still and dark

as the clock ticks silently past midnight.

Doors barred against the relentless heat,

the town sleeps,

lulled by the constant drone

of the instruments of alleviation.

I lie awake, sensing the oscillations of the offset noise.

A sudden flash of white-hot light

breaches the blinds and illuminates the room.

With a hypnotic flicker, it disappears,

leaving only its memory, searing my retinas.

A long moment passes,

followed by the sharp roar of the splitting sky.

Another moment, then the sound of the downpour in sheets on the window panes.

Blessed moisture, sorely needed

arrives at last,

and all that lives rejoices.

The reprieve will not last.

The land is hot, and thirsty,

but for now, I close my weary eyes

as another lance of light pierces the darkness.

Sleep comes before the thunder.