It pours.
The sound thunders, muted in its steadiness.
The scents waft upon a slight breeze–
green, growing, damp, then drenched.

The world ceases to exist for a moment.
Then, the rain passes.
The heavy downpour is gone.
The buckets that once were fade away,
and a light drizzle replaces it.

The sun shines in the shower.
The thundering silence of the blanketing squall a memory,
but the smell of it remains.
A reminder of the brief, fleeting


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