Arrived like a high school marching band, yesterday’s rain. Cymbals clashing errantly. Base drums pounding.
The marching band dropped from the bottom of zinc-colored clouds, fringed by lightning, and paraded across the prairie grass as songbirds lifted and disbursed ahead.
Across the prairie and down through the arroyos, marched the band. Insistent. Overwhelming. Great fanfare in a dry land.
And then gone over the sage and juniper and pine tree hills.
In the quiet after-rain, bluebirds and hoppers resumed their chasing game.
Once more the big blue sky.