It only lasted a few minutes--here and gone in a flurry of wind and rain and hail--leaving light and soft earth in its wake.
Even now there is hardly any sign that it has rained at all, save for one or two stray puddles and an extra sweetness in the air. Still, you know those few minutes calmed the earth and tamed the dusty winds that have rolled through town these past weeks, stirring up trouble and dirt. The fat plops of moisture fell to the ground, coating the dry earth in a silky blanket, allowing the seeds in your garden to drink deeply and the thick yellow pollen to leave the sky and make its home in the ground.
This rain, gone too soon, makes you want to run out and play in it; it is rich, violent, bursting with life in a way that compels you to dance in the puddles and twirl in the rain as you once did so long ago. You want to feel these nourishing drops kiss your face, wet your eyelashes, and dribble down your chin. You want them to slap your palms and mat your hair with their thickness as you gaze up at the clouds that have rolled over the mountains and covered your city.
This is your desert spring rain, a flashy foreshadowing of the monsoons with their thunder and lighting and lovely, lovely rain that grace your home in the summer, nourishing the earth, cleaning your soul, feeding your heart.
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