The first blooms of prairie sundrops have opened — cheerful and bright. They remind me of childhood, and yellow crayon drawings.
The temperature cools.
The sky grows dark.
Heavy rains arrive.
Then rolling thunder.
A cold cup of coffee in hand, I sit in a bright blue lawn chair in the garage and watch the storm.
I close my eyes and listen.
The smell of petrichor drifts through the air, then mixes with the scent of stacked firewood beside me.
I open my eyes as lightning fills the sky.
The grackles, unfazed.
A robin sings.
I get up and walk out from the shelter of the garage.
Cool rain against my face.
I love the rain.
