A Sprinkling of Rain

Ron Koppelberger

A Sprinkling of Rain

In the sure glow of a noon-tide ray of sunshine she stood face upturned toward the rain and sunshine, warm soothing and tasting sweet, as sweet as anything ever. Warm veined eyelids, glowing crimson and shallowly pooling tears, tears of joy and sweet rain in the candent glow of a days blessing.
They had prayed and now it came in cascades and mists of nourishing wonder. The dry desert sands received her gift and the seedlings drank in the sweet shower. She rubbed her cheek, wet, warm and gritty with salt and grains of desert sand. She rejoiced, exhilarated in trembling emancipating joy. It had rained in the desolate abandon of a forgotten and tragic drama. Primordial salvation visited the tiny tribe and god recognized their prayers with sweet sunshine and rain.
She thought for a moment, the blossom of need necessitates the birth of love. She thanked the skies and heaven in her own angelic harmonies of praise,
“Thank god! Thank god, the rain has come!”