Southern City Summers

I listen to the cicadas hum in the heat that has consumed the South.

Summer is indeed here.

Quick but powerful storms stroll through the area nearly every afternoon.

I watch from my window as the sky grows dark and the storm clouds creep in.

Ah, there it is.

The loud roll of thunder that I have grown so accustomed to.

The trees suddenly move in a violent way- leaves falling and branches bending.

The children in the street go to the nearest porch for cover.

Then comes the rain.

Heavy sheets spread across the ground leaving nothing untouched.

The thunder booms once more, lightning just before.

The rain continues and I realize I don’t hear the cicadas anymore.

A slight coolness kisses the air as the rain continues to blanket the ground,

filling the ditches and causing the river to rise.

Even among such a busy city, nature still demands to be heard.

To be felt.

Then just as quickly as it came, the storm passes through and into the mountains.

The remaining clouds slowly roll behind the rain and the trees bend back.

The last bit of sunlight peaks through;

and the air once more clings hot and sticky on my skin.

The cicadas return to their humming and the children play in the street as the city resumes.