The sky is talking
opening in peals of light and sound
rain comes like a blessing
earlier, claustrophobic sticky heat pressing down on sweat-slick skin
that crackles to the touch
gardens launguish, flaccid in this sauna of oppression under a colorless sky
Then, without warning, the heavens open wide
mist rises from the fields
fat cool droplets fall
steam rises from my skin
as I shed my clothes and dance with the land
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