Rain

Tink.

A single raindrop hits the metal roof of this carport.

Tink. Tink.

Two more. The air grows heavy from the humidity, and the solitary drops are joined by their friends.

Soon, the floodgates open, and rain gushes down.

Water fills the flower beds.

Pothole puddles turn into lakes.

Rivers flow through gardens.

And why is it that water is so dichotomous?

It gives life, but in its wake, it carries the stench of death as well.

It purifies and cleanses but also brings mud to our doorsteps.

It floods the earth and yet, at the same time, plays with light, creating rainbows.

And is water even dichotomous, or is it simply complete?

For without life, there is no death.

Without the washing away of mud, nothing can be cleansed.

And without a flood, there is no need for a promise.

And what did the woman at the well think when she heard of living water?

Did she think of rain first or of water in the dirt giving life to flowers?

Did she think of pothole puddles teeming with larvae and tadpoles?

Did she perhaps think of a river winding from the mountain to the sea?

Or did she see that living water gave life without death,

And offered cleansing from the mud?

Did she know it was a promise kept,

The rainbow after the flood?