Some counties had more than fourteen.
And some saw less than two.
We must be living right.
When it rains, it pours.
And pours and pours.
And we got our goodly share.
Now for a breather.
Warmer temperatures (again).
And, if we’re lucky, another round of rain.
You can’t be in it and be separate.
Though your roof may leak and mine doesn’t.
Or my yard might flood and yours doesn’t.
Rain, rain, heavenly rain.
Like sunshine, it makes no distinction.
It’s just there.
Falling where it chooses.
The sun somewhere behind it.
Curious how one thing can be a blessing.
And next time it’s a curse.
Too much of either one is cause for concern.
“Everything in moderation,” the sages say.
But Nature likes to blow out the stops.
Just to show us who’s in charge.
Maybe to remind us.
To show us what lack of moderation looks like.
And feels like.
Flooding us with examples.
Burning hot and dry into our droughty lives.
Blowing the truth right through us.
Pouring mercifully upon us.
Doing anything and everything to get our attention.
Raindrops keep falling…
Renee Walker is a poet, writer, and real estate broker on the Square.