Man, I miss the rain.
I never understood people that felt sorry for me because my job carrying mail means having to be out in the rain. I love it, always have (well, not hard winter rains, but any other kind is fine).
I especially love summer rains; it feels so good to be cool. And the sound of rain is soothing, like all water sounds.
And this summer I, most probably like you, have had little of it. The grass was brown by early June, and now it crunches underfoot. My soul feels like that, dried out and thirsting for sweet rain, like the line in the poem by Hopkins: Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.
It is rumored that this latest hot spell may break today with thunderstorms. I hope so, and am sending this out into the universe as a sort of encouragement: