Rain was in the forecast,
yet I drew in sidewalk chalk
because not all that is
must always be
Rain was in the forecast,
yet I drew in sidewalk chalk
because not all that is
must always be
Above the world is water dancing in the sky. The humidity rises and water vapor can waltz and flow across the sky. The wind pushes and pulls the water from one end of the heavens to the other. The water dances in the sky.
It collects and combines into clouds, some puffy white others dark and stormy. The clouds eat each other up to form massive congregations of water. Each with its curves and edges and corners and boundaries. Each with its shapes that people transform in their minds. Each with a tummy darker than the rest of it, no matter if it is puffy white or dark and stormy.
The air is heavy with water, and not just the air up in the sky. In through the nose it is heavy and moist, almost tangible to the taste. It is the smell of new leaves and wet paper and fresh skin and cooked greens and clean glass. The skin gets a little cooler and the wind gives it a little kiss. The air is heavy and cool with water giving sign to a storm.
The clouds hover over the earth, waiting and watching. Waiting to collect enough water to drop on the earth below. Watching over everything, but seeing nothing. The clouds above the world, in the midst of dancing water, only waiting to drop what they have collected. Waiting and watching.
And they wait no more.
Down they let their precious cargo, down they let their treasure, down they let their trash, down they let themselves. The rain pours. Each drop sways in the wind, but with a final destination. The water does not dance in the wind anymore. It does not have time to frolic in the sky, but must get to the grass, pond, rooftop, hair, log, leaf, clothing. The rain has a destination, with no mind of its own. And so the wind still tries to get the raindrops to dance.
Off in the distance is a wonderful strike of brilliant light, here one moment and gone another. The lightning shines and shows off its beauty, silently calling to it lover. Waiting for the response back.
One second away
Two seconds away
Three seconds away
Thunder makes itself known, thunder bellows its response to its darling. Thunder yells to all the world that lightning is its mate. Thunder calls to its heart that he will be with her once again. Thunder tells lightning that he will come closer, try harder, be nicer, be softer, be faithful, be kinder, be there. But thunder is known for being rough and far away and being loud and being strong and being free, not a lover. Of breaking promises.
Lightning flashes and dances and spins and twirls and does everything it can to be the best. To be the most beautiful, to be the most stunning, to be the most daring, to be the most of everything. Lightning tries to the win the heart of her lover. Lightning tries and tries.
One second away
Two seconds away
Thunder is enticed and comes closer, wowed by the majesty and splendor of the show lightning put on for him. He wants to use her, he wants to watch her out do herself in competing for his heart. Competing only with her former performance. Thunder watches her dance and dance and try and try. Thunder watches. Waiting for her to fail, for him to find something better.
Lightning breaking trees and sets fire to them, trying to impress thunder. Lightning makes the stars look dim compared to her radiance, trying to impress thunder. Lightning makes the sun look pale, trying to impress thunder. Lightning makes the night sky light up like day, trying to impress thunder. Lightning tries to impress thunder.
One second away
Thunder slowly, sarcastically claps, seeing if he can make lightning try harder to impress him. He wants a show, he wants beauty at its finest or none at all. Thunder waits for more.
Lightning is tired of giving thunder her all. She wants him to love her for who she is – a force of nature meant to be. Not meant to impress because is not she already impressive enough for just being? Lightning wants to see if she won her lover’s heart, not his eyes. Lightning stops trying to impress. Lightning stops. Lightning waits.
Nothing.
Thunder is not there to be impressed. Thunder is only an effect of lightning. Thunder cannot be won because he is only a reflection of lightning. Thunder is nothing without lightning.
Lightning has stopped dancing and so has water. But wind still tries to make the raindrops dance.
Oh, the magnificent science behind a storm, behind clouds, behind the sky. How everything is just right for the water to collect, for the water to fall. For the sky to be illuminated with lightning and to make its presence known with thunder. The science and precision in its own right is a glorious beauty. To be seen with eyes, to be heard with the ears, to be felt with the skin, to be smelled with the nose, to tasted with the mouth; that is another miracle. For one event to bring in all the senses and equally electrify them, is an effect few events have.
Pixabay/user:sethink
Watching the heavy pouring rain
Well, more specifically watching the raindrops
hitting the puddles
The water droplets pelting the the standing water
and their ripples are what interests me
When there is a high amount of rain coming down
The raindrops have little and few ripples,
but have relative high splash up.
When the rain is not as pressured
the drops have no splash but many ripples
***
I believe that is we
as humans
are today.
We all want
and almost need to have
a big splash
something to show for ourselves
But it kicks up
with nothing lasting
not effecting others
Just something to point out
that
‘I did that!’
Leaving no effect on the world
All of us hitting the same area
so constrained
in one place.
Ourselves
***
But when we don’t fall within the masses
we have more lasting effects
Yes, no splash
but slowly
gracefully
we begin to change
the atmosphere
around us
We leave an impression
Though not as many people are
watching
and noticing
the ones who are,
are changed
forever.
***
So do you want a big splash
with people watching
and eventually forgetting?
Or many ripples
a few noticing
but being changed
forever?
Your choice.
We all fall from the same rain cloud
but it’s what you do before
you hit the ground.
Looks like rain is a comin’
The sky is blackin’
All the clouds begin to morph together
and the sky begins to blur
Humidity runs high
I sigh
The wind toys with my hair
and I begin to feel a chill in the air
the leaves flip to show their underside
Silver Maple, I identified
The sprinkles on my head make me wonder
if it’s really rain, until I hear the thunder
Looks like rain is a comin’
It came
The fields blow
to shelter I go
The birds hide
and the worms come out to die
A tree gives way
but it was dead anyway
The sidewalks are pelted
From a window, everything is melted
but that’s only from the inside
Nature is alive for the first time outside
Looks like rain is a comin’
It came
I begin to ponder
and my thoughts become a whir
Why am I hiding in here?
It’s just rain, nothing severe
Am I afraid of getting wet?
Water is no threat
It’s just the normal thing to do
been taught to always withdrew
I ask myself the whys?
Then I realize what it symbolize
The rain
is the troubles we disdain
We begin to see the problems coming
but still don’t believe the impending
and keep on saying ‘Looks like rain is a comin”
but don’t do a thing
until it came
and we give it a name
like divorce, or abuse, or death
We stop to take a breath
and remember when
we said
Looks like rain is a comin’
and whisper softly ‘It Came’
And so I decide
(with some pride)
I should take this chance
to go dance
in the rain, to enjoy my tribulations
and give all of my burdens
to the heavens
Looks like rain is a comin’
It came
and I’m okay.
The little bubbles of not air
Floating, yet clinging to air
Still able to be seen through
Every time it cries, they are seen
They blur and reflect
They’re essence is that of us, reflecting
Our lives are so much alike
Holding on to hope, all of us humans alike
Sometimes we wonder if our transparence
is as seen through as their transparence
The bubbles are so little and fragile
Our emotions are so fragile
Then comes the wind
Then comes the wind
They fly away
as we do too, go away
Become like star flying pass
We think we are in the present, but really we’re in the pass
Just clinging
Just clinging
Just cling to hope
Isn’t that all we have, hope?
Hope, faith, and love
Hope and faith in making the right decision, and if wrong – love
They make fractals
We see through fractals
Watching the raindrops
from my window and out into the air, they drop
We are like the raindrops
Never get lost in the Sauce
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
Michael Ryan Hunsaker, Ph.D.