we danced in the rain

until the thunder chased us home

I heard the rain, the call, the beauty falling from the sky 

and reminded the others of our duty

(we changed into less hydrophobic clothing)

we ran

and spun

we reinvented modern dance

discovering the real reason there is a large cement pad in the middle of the hill 

(it is for calling the rain, of course)

watched from the smoker's club

and passing cars

did we care?

do nymphs care if you watch them dance?

we called the rain and it soaked its way to our skins

then the bluest of lightning

and a never-ending thunderclap (well, very long at least)

reminded us of home and tea and towels

and we ran again 

keys jangling brightly against wet knees

best. monday. ever.