When the birds cease to sing and all is quiet with the promise of a thunderstorm we will watch the sky.

The air is still and motionless and the sky turns to a pale yellow.
A blanket of anticipation and danger hovers above, as the sky rapidly turns dark.

The stillness is interrupted with the sounds of the wind forcing their angry voices through the trees. The scent they leave behind mingles with the heat from the scorched earth and undulates as it gives way to a single heavy droplet. It is the first onslaught of many that are competing to be heard in a beautiful symphony of a summer's brief downpour.

We watch in awe as the clouds roll by and deplete themselves of their heavy burden. They seem happier as they are lighter, allowing a sliver of sun to filter through. Now is our chance to join in the concert...

Noisily we will stomp in the puddles on our way to the park, and go down the slide. We can collect water in a sand pail and pour it on each other.

Can we sit on a bench and kiss passionately? Will you stare at my wet front and try to feel me up? Will you chase me when I get up and run away giggling? When you catch me, will you pull me to you in a fury, and silence my laughter with seductive, scandalous, erotic words across my flesh?

The symphony's finale belongs to us. The heat of our kiss will dissipate the last drop of rain, as the birds continue their melodious song, and the air gently stirs once more with the sweet fragrance of thirst-quenched life.