the setting sun dried the land with fire
just days before
the air was thick
palpably ripe
and hovering
like a water balloon
ready to break
Rain fell gently upon the face of that Southern home. The hungry mouths of surrounding nature gathered, opening their petals with bulbs bloomed and gazing upward. It was a slow motion forgiveness, and the virgin bath of angels washed-over its veiled paradisal limestone. Rainbow prisms ignited in the drops pooling at the feet of their stems. And the aged lace of the dwelling burned holy: its cotton awnings christened by the blood of those who had suffered were drawn open and ready. It was as though the sky had collected all of the sadness in its ceramic bowl atmosphere, churning history into new tears of joy. And the broken occupants surrendered their fear, as the clouds wrung God's gut dry and anemic for their benefit. A new beginning was birthed before sunset, giving strength to the weak.
And as the headmaster collected the wet wisdom in his mason jars lined up under their roof, mercy was granted with the sound of water. Peace was brought to the land, and the angst of humanity became nothing but a passing storm.