Slice of Rain | JULIA KNIGHT ’20

Slice of Rain”

BY JULIA KNIGHT ’20 A dull light-gray color that covered the sky today begins to deepen, fading to darkness as it reaches higher into the sky. The moon threatens the leftover sunlight, whispering the beginning of night. Below it, the lake reflects the fleeting clouds, currently pouring heavy droplets of rain that fall like a marathon of footsteps onto the roofs surrounding the lake. The trees droop with the weight of their new company: drops of water clinging to the dark green pine needles hoping not to touch the ground. A light gust of wind separates them from their host, and for a brief second, the footsteps on the roofs become heavier, more incessant. The trees spring up slightly, only to droop again with new drops of water. The cycle continues as more wind gently brushes the water off of the branches.

On the lake, small ripples spread across the surface, signifying the final resting place of the raindrops. The slight rise and fall of the water distorts the reflection of the clouds. The air smells fresh, clean, earthy, almost heavy. It’s as if the sheets of water washed off any preexisting scents and left a blank slate to be filled by the smell of rain, almost indescribable. The humidity has left its stamp, giving the air outside a damp and warm feel. The air weighs more than usual, a soft blanket of moisture floats over the world. The dirt on the ground changes color from a rich dark brown to a brown color almost indistinguishable from the black spreading across the sky. Little imprints disturb the flat ground as a black and white cat darts towards a nearby home, his tail high, his fur slick, his formerly white paws now tinted by the wet earth. All the while the moon becomes more defined as the day fades to night.