One drop of water slowly slid down the side of her iced tea glass
Gathering smaller drops in its wake as it forged a path through the condensation
A storm was coming. She had felt it on the horizon for days. Weeks. Months.
Turning to look at the dark clouds heavy with rain she thought of birth
Fat drops forming, filling.
Waiting to be released.
Potential vibrating from them
The storm would come soon
The rain would fall from its perch above to the earth below
To go where? To do what? The possibilities were endless
Nourish a tree. Give life to growth
To form a stream, a river, a lake
To be part of a glacier. Locked in deep, cold. Still. Thousands of years unchanged.
To be part of a flood. Joining others moving through causing change, destruction, death
To be deep in the ocean moving through time part of the whole yet untouched by the sun
Or a puddle
dried and gone
starting it all again
The thunder rolled in the distance
The clouds shuddered in response
And released their burdens
She ran outside opening her arms
Turning her face to the skies
The storm came.
She had been ready
She knew now.
What would it be?
She felt the wetness on her face
Drops from her eyes mixed with drops from the sky
And she was reborn