Rain Kissed Bower

Rain Kissed Bower

We had been friends for a long dry season.

Roiling smoky clouds of feeling were brewing on the horizon.

The air was warm and heavy with the anticipation of the coming storm.

As we rubbed together on many fronts the electricity was more than static.

After a lightening bolt of revelation on a bus bound for somewhere

The echoes rolled down the foothills and across the prairies.

A few drops of refreshing transparency fed life to seeds of love long hidden.

Showers continued to soak through outlining joy on our face like a wet shirt skin.

A whirlwind of smug friendly congratulations tried to push us over.

Before running into the the shelter of home, I grabbed her rain kissed hand.

The rain came fast and hard threatening to flood and fling mud.

The pine branches bow their heads to create a moist chapel bower for two.

Like a scene from movie without the artistry or sweeping score, it happened.

Awkward, sweet, and insistent like me that was our first kiss.