Crying

Suddenly she came. Neither thunder’s roar nor lightning’s strike announced her. I was sweeping the dirt-covered walk just beyond my front porch with a broom I had made myself from broken straw and twisted branches. It left bold, beautiful patterns as I swirled it back and forth. Emerging from a daydream, it occurred to me that I had inadvertently outlined in the dirt all of Egypt; complete— with the Nile running straight through it—all dried up, until she came.