Rain Falling on Parched Earth

Rain is a rare and beautiful commodity this year.  At the sight of a storm rolling across the valley, I dragged a folding chair out onto my front stoop and waited for the storm to reach me.

Came first a cool breeze ruffling my hair.

Then a small darkness fell over my house.

Then rain.

The scent of rain kissing parched earth is like no other.  The only near equivalent is a love song.

I sat even as rain sprayed against my arms and swept across my face.  The rain did not last long, but the vital touch of it put a shine to the whole of the prairie before me.

And when the sun emerged from the clouds, the scent of wet earth became the smell of grass and sagebrush.

Then arose birdsong.

—Mitchell Hegman