There is an eerie calm with the rapid patter.

The scent of quenched earth permeates the air,

and sickled flowers wilting at the stem.

I hunch my back over

Hiding my face, as the footsteps near. 

A slap

The wind picked up pace

“Why are you in a hurry” he asks

“Why do you care”

Mistake.

Bucketfuls of that liquid rain,

dirt,

germs,

and water joined hands.

It pummels at the houses denting their roofs

His eyes light up with anger and sick joy 

Bright red fists crash upon me

Adulterating fabric of clothes, shoes alike 

ripping apart branches,

engulfing houses in its grip.

Flashes of red appear in my vision,

some black.  

My wrist aches

with marks from fingernails holding on too tight 

Thunder whips through the sky

My cheek is stinging

The rain pauses for a little,
grass regains its strength.

Sunny rays peek from behind the fluffs of fury 

He lets me lay very still

But only a small break 

There is always an eerie calm

Followed by rapid patter