At 3 PM everyday during the summertime, a concentrated rain pours in Tampa. It smacks the roofs so hard that you can’t hear yourself think. We would have to wait on the balcony, watching for it to stop.
I can be mother nature too. A tropical paradise. But not without my storms. Like routine it comes the pelting pain. And I’m forced to sit inside and watch it.
This season has gone on for quite a while now and I am getting tired of it. Of the suffering darkness and heavy waters. It’s usually bright out, but the explosion of the sky still comes.
When will the flowers bloom? When will branches and leaves stop falling away? It’s just mud and rusted things. The wind scares me.
The grass is burrowing. A death. It hurts to die. When will the sun stay steady beaming and maybe an occasional spitting of rain here and there? I can deal with that.