I hear it coming in the form of thunder. The coming clouds tell me the rain approaches. It comes to Florida in the sound of skittles hitting the pavement and the falling of a child. It scatters across America as injustice’s banner is waved above our own. The rain pours like the pelting of protest as our military men are offered jobs at Wal-Mart as compensation for their service. It glares as the corporate lawn next to mine gets to water daily, but I am forced onto a 2 day water restriction. It will breed hot with rage when the lower 3 quarters gets tired of being told how to live by the lesser amount. The rain will come.