praying for rain

I stood looking at a dry desert cliff. The cactus on the edge seemed to be waving hello. There wasn't much vegetation to speak of so I guess he was waving at me. The cliff overlooked a 100 foot drop. The ground below looked cooler from the shade of the rocky precipice. It was the kind of place where you needed plenty of water. It was the kind of place where daredevil base jumpers come to test their limits.

I closed my eyes.

I heard the thundering of the waterfall. I felt mist on my face. I listened to the power of the rushing river water. I smelled the aquatic smell of the river bank. I heard the million tons of water doing cannon balls into the pool below. I felt the breeze created by water sprinting to its favorite cliff. I listened to the bubbles below coming up for air. I smelled green all around me.

I opened my eyes.

I had to blink a few times. All that was there was the arid reminder of the things that are. The sun dried up my sweat before it could drip. My mouth was pasty. My lips were beginning to crack. Parched dust punished my face. The only sound that broke the silence was the distant circling of vultures overhead. My arms tingled from the hot wind that was kicking up the sand.

I wanted to close my eyes again. I wanted to taste the fresh air of the waterfall that should have been but wasn't. But I knew I had seen enough. I had seen what was coming. Now, I had to be a part of the present.

I looked off into the distance. The clear blue sky was being stained by a different color miles north of the cliff. Puffy white clouds were beginning to gather. I thought to myself, "Someone has been praying for rain." And I knew it was time to join them.