Delicate Beauty

The Thief of Always, Prompt #3

 Something short, delicate. It doesn't last long, for it always melts between the fingers of uncaring beings. Beauty blooms here, sprouting through the soil that, just a month ago, was frozen solid. The air is filled with the scent of flowers and approaching rainstorms, a fragrant mist that looms over the petals of the new buds. The luminous clouds finally break, allowing a refreshing downpour to pummel the earth below.  The sky bellows in triumph, lightning climbs through the clouds. The soil absorbs the sky's tears of happiness, the buds drinking heartily. The clouds separate, revealing the sun that had been hiding there all along. The buds drink in the sun's rays. The water in the sidewalks evaporate, the street returning to dry. Soon, the peacefulness of this beauty will give in to the sweltering heat of summer.