August Third

He saw it coming from miles away

But first he heard it

The faint sound of thunder

Then a flash of lightning

A summer thunderstorm in Texas is a rare thing

The parched ground, the heavy air

Does not seem to allow it

Soon he felt cool fingers of air

Slicing the languid heat of the summer

He saw the sky darkening

And felt moisture finally wetting the heat

The winds were now swaying the trees

Rustling the leaves

In a way that wouldn’t be heard until late fall.

The parched earth drank up all the water

And then begged for more

A few more precious drops

To moisten the grass and feed the trees

He noticed the birds were confused

Blasts of wind, constantly shifting

Pushed the birds back and forth

Without a calm branch to land on

He watched the steam rise from the blacktop

Always amazed on how much heat it contained

Enough to burn his feet, even with shoes on

He welcomed the brief respite from the heat

He welcomed the sounds and the smell

Of the thunder, the air, the water

He was amazed at the play between ground and sky

The rain teasing the heat

But the heat always winning

As quickly as it came, it passed

The heat defeated for an hour or two

A day’s different memory in his mind

And a few new green blades of grass