My Own Rain Dance

Plants swaying, beautiful sky, softest feeling Clouds crusted in white with gray centers An unexpected warmth to the air this morning. Any hope of rain? I peer at the clouds, not knowing. Decide to lug the hoses around and water my flowers. A few minutes after I water the lawn, I hear a gentle roar. Thunder? I am not surprised. Always happens after I water. Me watering is tantamount to a Native American Rain Dance. Suddenly I realize what the rumbling sound is. Garbage truck lifting the large dumpster, every other Tuesday.