First of the summer storms

[shapeofthings]

The first of the summer storms rolled over the mountian yesterday, two months ahead of schedule. The first summer storm shook the jacarandas, braches heavy with buds, and the silky oaks, blazing yellow in the afternoon light. The crows bowed their heads for mercy: too early. We watched the clouds in earnest, willing for long, heavy rain but not the hail promised in her greeneyed hue.

She rolled in from the west, full of promise and lay close to the ground. She came in fast, with the wind before her and a strange striped front, as she crossed the mountain. The first summer storm looked like a doozy and carried a warning in her path. Silence struck before the winds swept in and the last lorikeets raced for shelter.

The first storm of the summer fizzled right before she hit; the city's heat stealing her thunder and turning her 'round to the north, leaving only desperate rain that the ground drank up and cool, blue skies that gently drifted into night.