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Minneapolis High School|Academics: College Prep English III

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After the Storm

by Ellie Labes

November 19, 2009

    The rain stops.  I step outside into the fresh, new world.  Low, soft thunder gently rolls in the distance.  I look up toward the eastern sky, gazing at the anemic clouds, thinned out and translucent.  The clouds have spilled all of their tears upon the world, as if to make it more sensitive and soft.  They are almost like a human face after weeping, becoming more beautiful and true, but also so much more vulnerable, as if the slightest breeze could come and lift away their slight weight and carry them off.  No breeze blows, though.  All is still.  As I turn my head to the dripping leaves of the trees, I notice no birds chirping.  Everything is hushed, calm, and reserved.  Even the insects give honor to this special moment, and mute their chittering for a while.
    A thin ray of light slides its way through the relieved clouds and shines off of all the tiny water droplets, creating millions of small rainbows.  The whole world now has a violet tint to it, and everything is more vivid.  The trees are an almost indescribable green, so lush and smooth; even the trunks seem to be colored with the softest of moss.  The soil is a rich, dark brown, signifying the ground’s quenched thirst.
    I taste the humid, but cool, air around me.  It has the flavor of a melted glacier trickling in small rivulets down a cool mountainside.  I close my eyes and just savor the intricate flavors of the moist air for a moment, before opening them again to the amazing place I’m standing in.
    I walk to the edge of the patio and bend down to run my fingers over the leaves of the rejuvenated potted flowers.  Their petals are so soft, smooth, and wet.  The water feels cool and comforting on my fingertips.  I move my hands down the stem to the leaves.  Rubbing down the leaf, water slides off the tip into a small puddle on the ground.  When I rub up, I can feel the grating of the cuticle of the plant objecting to my direction of motion.  As I slowly rise to my feet, I feel a small drop of water fall upon my cheek.  I stare up, and realize that the clouds are not completely empty yet and are not quite as thin as they seem.  I breathe in deep and feel the sweet air roll over my tongue and through my nose one more time before turning to retreat back in my home before the rain begins again.

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