by Joseph Grant
The rain would come, sweeping in off the mountain, the way it did this time of season, clearing the quiet town of the dust and grit it had inherited during the long, dry summer and the drifting precipitation would cool the air of the lower hills and the peaceful valley below. The change in temperature and wind would summon forth a low-lying fog and gently push the mist until it too would blanket the quiescent town in ineffable mystery. On occasion, a deer or maybe a cougar might wander down from the rocky foothills in search of food, get spooked by the wild dogs wandering around in the gray light of the early morning daybreak and return to the safe, verdant cathedral of the forest. When enough of the downpour had fallen, the rivers would jam from the abandoned logs by the man-made dam and as a result, there would be an increased rise in floodwaters, spilling over their banks, leaving errant and confused fish to swim down the main thoroughfare, past the rusting hulls of cars and pick-up trucks, back down into the sewers and out to the cresting ravines. Only in due time, would the sun declare itself the winner of the storm and burst onto the saturated landscape, drying the rivers of mud in the street, caking them higher and higher each time, calling upon the flowers to reach up towards the heavens and conduct the birds to whistle their cheerful tunes. It had been a long time since man had eradicated himself and yet strangely, the earth abided.
Joseph Grant, whose full catalog is here, is a 6S All-Star and the first featured author in our "Six Sixes" series.