Sweltering heat is made thick by the wetness of summer rains, still hours away.
Syrupy air is difficult to breathe yet it carries the sweetness of the season’s blooms.
Fervent winds cool sunbathers’ skin, soaking up the heat pined for in winter.
A storm brews in the distance.
Blackness suddenly creeps into the atmosphere.
Soon a few patient raindrops fall heavy from the sky.
Then ardently, the pent-up moisture descends from the heavens as if in a solid pane.
The air is instantly cooled and its electric quality is palpable.
The pitter-patter of drops on pavement draws out the scent of the city.
Wet asphalt suggests renewal; superficial, fleeting.
Short-lived, the intense storm is burned up by the returning sun.
A rainbow is left, a brief reminder of nature’s conundrum:
Magnificent beauty and ruthlessness, power, necessity.
The entire sky glows as crimson sunlight bounces off cotton-ball clouds.
The earth is nourished again.
In this place, storms create magic;
Wild, raw, and perfect.
Here, the rains are familiar and awaited.
They pour heavily into the ocean and
Create the illusion of overflow.
The grey day is counterintuitively enticing;
Promises of simultaneous sensory engagement
Draw warm, dry observers to the beach.
The smell of wet cedar bows hangs in the misty air.
Raindrops drip off the end of noses
And taste remarkably pure and sweet.
The heavy sea-spray is made saltier by sweat;
A marvellous elixir.
It is caught between the lips of kissing lovers,
Inevitably soaked through to the core.
Whistling nighttime winds tell stories
And are an invitation to the fireside.
The crashing waves shush, hypnotize,
Lulling listeners into quietude,
And then, nothing else matters.