Such an odd sight
is the sky before the impending rain
the horizon
a fading slate grey
against the brightest granny smith sour apple green
the thick, full leaves
sway
a swishing sea of florescence
as the rain charges in
first
a splinter of dotted lines on my window
the air suddenly cools
and then comes the rush
a fury of swishing, swashing, blurrying
as all open spaces
are filled up
commanding its presence
until it is gone.
-Lauren Modeen