The sky is filling with dark clouds ominously calling out with rolling thunder and sudden, cool gusts of wind.  I was forced to step into the oppressive heat to ensure I had not taken leave of my senses.  To my grateful surprise, storms are moving in.  What a welcome treat.  There is no hope of breaking the drought under which we suffer hard, yet anything capable of providing a few drops of rain, a break from the incessant heat and sun, a stirring of the air that so oppresses us, and we are a grateful people.

Radar indicates the approaching cells to be small and inconsequential except that some are becoming severe in the energy-rich atmosphere of Texas in the summer.  The sudden downpours expected will provide only the teasings of what is needed, yet we thirst desperately for what clouds might offer.

Send us your best, Mother Nature, and we will accept it.  Fire threatens our very existence.  Heat is indiscriminately killing.  Humidity taunts us with heavy breathing in gases thick with liquid, holding against our breezeless skin the promise of moisture and precipitation that is years late and insufficient.

Still, let it rain.  Refuse us not this small request.  If but a drop fall upon these parches lips and lands, then let it drop.  None would deny that even the promise of your tears is sufficient to well within us all hope.