Downpour

The hazy, misty Summer dampness
settles over everything.
Doors stick so that, unexpectedly,
you have to pull hard to open them.
A fragment of an old adage surfaces –
‘not the heat, the humidity.’
Overnight the air could no longer hold the moisture
and a cool wind carried a different weather with it.
Rain.
Pouring, pelting, driving, teeming rain;  
the kind with the heavy drops
that hurt when they hit your skin.
It is hard to see even a few feet in front of you.
Inside, I stand at the window and watch.
The streets are washed clean, 
and curbside, there is a tiny, fast moving river.
The trees, exposed, 
stand hunched against
the relentless torrent,
their braches heavy,
their waterlogged leaves limp.
The field behind my house is flattened
by the force of the heavy rain.
The sky is murky; 
the sun banished for the time being.
The heavy rain pours down ceaselessly;
it seems as if it will never end.
I watch through the window
and the rain falls.

© Ellie Maziekien

061402

	477. Untitled - June 14, 2002
 
	In the midst of the pouring rain,
	the world is reflected in the shine
	of a million raindrops --
	cooling the lives
	caught standing
	in the nightstorm.
 
	As the droplets slide
	across an unmoving face,
	a million expressions cross
	hurriedly
	in the pale moonlight.
 
	Just as quickly as the storm moves in,
	it disappears,
	only the waiting remains
	as the receding moonlight
	seeks shelter
	away from prying eyes.