It was one of those rare days of summer when the world took its bath.
The rest of the celestial bodies had a bang.
The heavens poured a steaming manchow soup on a cup of cumin powder and the dust of day flew at the first onslaught of rain.
From droplets, to puddles, to creeks water formed until the earth could contain no more.
As quickly as hunger is filled, it gagged and threw up like some drunken, glutton karate master.
Spoon by spoon, water spilled from the jade bowl to the hills;
String by string, white Chinese noodles were flung on the floor by some careless, tired cook.
Down nooks and crannies, water took the silk road journey to the sea.
As the last batch of kettles and pans settled in the sink, the earth sighed and burped and went to sleep. Contented.
