Swing, the new rain-dance

The day started slow and groggy. Sunday, my chosen sabbath, The day i break from cooperate prayer sets and just chill and love Jesus; drinking orange juice under trees made of mud-red bricks: concrete roots where I rest my feet. Seeking rest and solace in the warm asphalt, i walk outside. The clouds in the sky rolling in, darkly they grumbled about the weight they carried. To my left the i hear sounds that make my feet swing in motions i have never seen. The music catches the others outside and the rain-dance begin with the soft harmonies of swing...