The coming storm

It’s been too long for you and me, but we cannot touch each other for the sun is too hot, and our skin is too dry.

The humidity creeps higher and higher, yet there’s no relief in this hell. Nature wants her way.

I would tell you about my day, then you could do the same, yet we’re too spent to move.

Then the buzz begins. We are electric and wired to what’s coming from the atmosphere.

Birds in the sky fly away or chat madly in the trees; there are so many parrots, sparrows, and a few cockatoos and rosellas.

The cat meows nervously and begins purring loudly, rubbing against us, hoping for a lap or pats.

Outside, the wind picks up, the trees blow about, and the madness sets into our minds.

We’re wired and starting to feel increasingly weird when the lightning crashes.

Then the rain begins to pour hard. We start to smell the rain, and we feel the change.

Laying about listening to the rain, we begin to touch one another. Our skin is so wet now.

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