Not long after midnight, Suojelija grew anxious, shaking all over and nuzzling against Ristiinnä in their tiny garret, waking her. The air was still, thick, and hot, but a few moments later, rain was pounding down against the cobbles of the market, and bright flashes came in through the open window, followed by pounding thunder. Ris had already been thinking about how she hadn't tried to write any more songs, after Haleron shared one of his, so poetry was in the back of her mind. She took up her new raven-feather quill once the storm had blown through and penned a few lines in Westron, not long enough to be a song.
Summer swelters like a shim'ring sheet;
broiling seething clouds drink up the heat.
Sudden stillness of air, tension looms;
blinding flash of lightning, thunder booms.
All at once the air is full of sound;
sheets of showering rain that soak the ground.
As the trees drink up rain's healing brew,
shifting shafts of sunlight breaking through.
