Harbinger of Rain Rain thumped a thousand million urgent fists against the shingles. John B. Lee The rain so strong. Richard Grove And rainstorms, too—always rain lancing... James Deahl Where heavy clouds kiss the hilltops a line zigzags like a river of grey light about to overflow, harbinger of rain upon the city below. Thunder bursts in clicks and roar lightning precedes it cracking the skycrystal bolt-scarring the shrouded dome for an infinitesimal lapse of looming clarity. Lilliputian raindrops venture down, chilly scouters paving the way for their cyclopean siblings, a frozen grid of buildings and streets receives the downpour, a concert of splashing, gurgling, tinkling spreads and raids onto outdoor life, architecture, whatever little motion is left while rain plummets with its water spears, its bucketfuls of flood covering the vulnerable land.
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