Thunderstorm ...

I am lying face up, down under these tall green grasses, a few lilac blue flowers on some of them. My hands outstretched, and the grasses forming a tall green wall around my body lending me a patch of dazzling sky. Dark brown earth feeling soft underneath and crushed grass blades and weeds. It is raining, big sparkling drops falling from the bright sky. Drops falling and splashing, on my forehead, on my eyelids, on my chin, on my lips, on my open palms, feeling like little pin pricks. All around and above the rain is crashing down onto the grass blades making them rustle. I try to keep my eyes open to the blindingly lit up sky, and watch the bright rain fall from nowhere. Rain flows over my body, jumps down and soaks the wet mud till it turns juicy, supple and kind. Rain cuddles around me, making a tender puddle around the perimeter of my body, for tiny drops to popple. Rain, rolling down my face, kiddish yet lovingly insisting that I close my eyes. I lift my right hand up, turn my body slowly, slowly to lie on my left side. I clasp my palms and push them between my knees and fold my legs. I close my eyes. Some stray bird flying over might muse over me lying here like a mirrored question mark.