Rain

I smelled rebirth as the petrichor emanated from the ground, carpeted by grass across the field. Termite mounds sharply rose from the ground like tiny watchtowers, waiting for the long, awaited rains to come. Some birds sang tunes prophesying the coming of the long, awaited rains, with only scattered clouds as a sign of a slim-chance downpour. Trees were still green, probably anticipating the new life that would seep right into them. Fish in the river sometimes poked their sharp noses out of the waters' skin, curious to feel how it felt like when a raindrop hit them, after the skies cracked open. My grandfather always told me the gods emerged from the sun, in a ceremonious fashion, to crack the clouds open to release rain. A long time I gazed at the sun, waiting for someone or something to come out of it....