the air was still, heavy with moisture not yet prepared to fall, tranquility before the storm ever looming all around

she stand in pure night, no star nor moon above, nothing reflected off of her ivory skin, her black hair nigh invisible

the gentle sound of the rake against the sand, tracing around stone pagodas, shoots of bamboo like javelins piercing the sky

the shishi-odoshi clacks, silencing the crickets that hide amongst the lilies, her silken kimono draped lightly on the jade buddha

her subtle movements, easy like the breeze, yet profound like the water flowing among the rocks, eight rings swirl about the sand

she is oblivious to the first few fat drops of cold rain, a zen like trance wrapped around her naked form, calm flowing out

as the slow fall turns fierce, she speeds up her dance, balanced on the balls of her feet, raking as if racing the near torrential rain

at last she turns her face toward the clouds, cold water racing down her slender body, erect nipples the only sign of chill

still the shishi-odoshi claps, filling the white noise of the pummeling precipitation with it’s haunting rhythm deep into the night