The rain was a relief from the heat.
It came down like a mother rushing to save her earth bound child.
Now the rain has settled into a persistent drip on my tin roof. The sound reminds of a money changer dropping silver coins one after the other,
Counting the cost of reducing the heat,
For the temperature dropped to comfortable and the humidity bearable and sitting on my little porch I could take in the air.
Unable to walk for two days straight even in early morning without the air sticking in my lungs,
This blessing felt sacramental, even though tomorrow it is certain the heat will return to burn our throats,
For we have reaped the whirlwind.
Storms will lash our homes and the heat will challenge survival, as prayers to idols of air conditioning and the electric grid become loud rites demanding human sacrifice.
Face it! The climate has changed:
Seasons have reversed polarities of human expectations,
Summer tortures,
Autumn hints at relief,
Winter whispers chills and the prospect of snow and icy cold days,
And spring tempts with a short reprieve before
Our world begins to smell like smoke again, and we retreat once more to air conditioning.
THH
6/2524
Thoughts Have Hands 