It stopped raining for a day and a half,
long enough to dry puddles in the driveway,
leaving green shimmers and spongy mud
that cut like cake with a weed eater. 

Cars thunked, clunked down the pot-holed road,
dirt carved out by Kona Wind and torrents of water.
The echoes of machines whined and droned,
slicing and devouring ragged rain-worn paths.  
Lawn mowers, hammers, voices out and about
set off a barrage of dogs barking, alarmed by sounds,
people emerging, working, discovering summer again.