Thunder, like the moon rolling through the sky.
The rain hisses on the road outside.
We sit on our window ledge, the window open, as the
leaden rain
strips the air of all but the electric smell of the
thunder
and the pervasive scent of wet grass.
The moon is out, but struggles to shed its silver rays
against the sickly sodium pallor of the street lamps.
The road glistens, shimmering with each drop of water
falling out of the darkness above.
We watch the rain, absorbed in its hypnotic
drumming upon the cars parked below.
Silence, but for hiss.
Flicker of daylight blue on the horizon.
The thunder washes gently across the land.
Silence, but for hiss.
We watch the rain, my brother and I, each alone with
the elements.
And far away our lives wait patiently for our return.
There's no hurry.
The storm will last forever.
Watch the rain.
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