After the sun, the rain.

Days of hot sunshine when we melted into pools of ginger in the garden or hid in long grass shaded from the sun gave way at last to a fall of rain so heavy. First we could smell the rain coming, then the sky filled with dark bruises of cloud and the clouds burst. Inside the house we all gathered for shelter and listened as the rain cat danced on the roof. The leaves in the garden bowed low beneath the weight of water and raindrops caught in the bright red roses.
When the rain stopped the earth steamed. It was still hot. A warm wind rose and carried the scent of the wet roses, beaded with raindrops.
Now it is dark and the sky is silvered with traces of clouds, lit by the crescent moon. The night belongs to the owls and to the toads and frogs.
The light from the crescent moon shines in our deep, dark cats eyes.