The rattle of the windowpanes with the vibration of thunder; the pitter-patter of raindrops against the glass. The blessed relief from the heat as water soaks into the parched ground. The pound against the rooftop, and the distant, savage snarl of thunder.
Summer may be brutal and oppressive, but the rains alleviate some of the worst. The wilting grasses perk up once more; the weeds flourish and thrive despite one’s best efforts to keep them down. But they are offset by the vibrant green of the leaves and the intensity of the flowers that lift their heads once watered, and the intermittent landing of birds picking at the dirt and cocking a beady eye, be their cries noisy and irritating in the morning.
The sound of rain at night soothes the soul; makes one’s slumber deeper; drowns out the rest of the world and blots out the painful brightness for a short time into a relaxing monotone.
E. Seneca 