Stifling,
Heat much too high for this time of year.
The trees reach to the sky,
Imploring Mother Nature
To shed some tears,
Wet their tongues,
Quench their thirst.
The grasses have but gone brown.
The Earth,
So parched it has started to crack.

The Sun,
High in her Heaven,
Is angry.
She glares down at us with disdain.
Punishing heat,
Burning our souls.
What penance does she require
For her divine forgiveness?
What must we do?
What must we do?

A bank of clouds huddles together in the wings
Waiting for their cue.
The heaven are lit with flickers of lightning
Chasing itself across the sky.
The Earth below
Waits patiently
For the storm,
All attention upward.

The light show builds into a drum roll and
CRACK!
Thunder slices the thick, wet air
a hot blade through butter
The skies open
And all rejoice
The grasses awaken,
The green returning to their cheeks.
Crepe Myrtle
Bends ever so slightly
To rinse her coiffure.
Blue Agave
Stretches her arms in grateful embrace.

I sit alone
A queen on my elevated throne
Surveying my kingdom.
Such spectacle!
Surely Mother Nature has designed this display
For my pleasure.