Impending relief

The sky is upon us. Moistened and streaked with greys. The starkness of red poincianas suspended in seas of green. I resist the urge to regress to feutal imitations in the humidity.

I am breathing salt and scented fruit. Plump and bursting. Even country seems to spill over into the sea.

The air is cooler. Breeze brings relief. I have come back to myself. Dripping. Bloated. Sprawling.

The sky splits. The creeping shadow of rain fills the horizon. I am waiting for it's arrival. Certain of relief.