The sky is overcast with grey clouds. A shadow engulfs any semblance of sunlight in every crack and crevice. Nostrils are stimulated with the damp smell of rain. Some run indoors and some hurriedly cover their ears as thunder rumbles across the landscape.
With the first few drops, birds cease chirping and flock to their homes. A drizzle begins, and hands are outstretched from windows to let the cold sensation give way to goose bumps. Some gaze up at the sky, awestruck by the dark cloak which has hid away the sun’s power.
As the downpour sets in, a trekker flips out his poncho and instantly huddles beneath it with his rucksack. His boots are caked with mud, with brown splotches sticking to the edge of his trousers. He begins singing heartily, as he navigates through slippery rocks on the narrow mountain trail.
The thunderstorm gathers force, and winds lash out on trees, pulverising innumerable homes of tiny organisms. Some perish instantly, and survivors begin scuttling to safer places before they can bid farewell to the lost ones. Little does a man notice as he trudges past a line of dreary ants heading to their new shelter, or the spider quietly weaving a new web.
As the wet spell draws to a close, the sun emerges from the dark pall and gleams on dripping tree barks and leaves. A rainbow curves lavishly from a cloud. Birds flap their drenched wings and catch a cheerful tune. Little saplings peek out from the damp earth in a twirling manner. New life is born.
The rain clouds move to another area, eager for more earthly experience.
A damp day.