First you remember to turn off the
porch light
so you don't confuse the
moths. This
is important. Then you step into the
grass;
your shoes are off and you are not wearing
socks. It is
prickly green, damp and cool
and the air at the same time
still and throbbing
and humming with night. The crickets, they
harp constantly and
the fireflies drift up like
sparks from the shrubs, and when the first drops
come
you shout because you feel you must. And smell
the rain, breathe
in that
musty funky powerful smell as the
wind decides to shift its
lazy ass and plop
plop
rain falls like the best kind of gift.
It comes down in earnest, now, and this is when
the fun begins. The steamy dark and wetness of the
drops can drive you crazy and you have to fling
your arms out to hold it all.
You can almost feel the heat swirling in eddies
through the cool rain and the summer night
air and now your shirt is plastered to you and
your hair slicked back and running in streams
down your face.
This is what it's about.