In the tropical heat of the summer afternoon, the air was dreadfully thick and still (or sultry - the best word I learned from the movie "Throw Mama off the Train"). Every willow leaf dropped its head. Even the tireless cicadas stopped humming.
A gentle breeze brushed my face. All the flowers in the pond began to nod. Leaves started their Marilyn Monroe act with raised skirts. Fragrance extended for miles. Soon clouds grew dark and thick. With a roar of thunder, bean size drops landed. Like a million pearls let loose from heaven, they danced on every leaf and flower petal. They rolled to the center of each leaf. Hundreds of little pools appeared. The leaves buckled and sent the first batch into the pond like waterfalls, then rebounded to greet the newcomers. Heat was swept away with the smell of dust. The rain ended as fast as it started.