The Rain

It seems like an uminportant thing. And, I guess, for the most part it is. Rain has been falling, but it has been a slow, gentle rain--at times sporadic--never the long, steady downours that I have come to hope for.

Who would hope for rain? Farmers in a drought. People in a desert.

I remember once, when I went camping in Montana, in the U.S., a big lightning sorm came up. It bracketed the entire night sky.

Above the treeline as we were, the storm was intense, momentous. I thought we were doomed.

But it ended, as all things end.

The next day dawned bright snd sunny, glorious except for the mosquito hatchlings.

I still long for that feel, that sound, of a good, steady downpour . . .