Tinkle

She saw him in the paddock, had put his tools and wire down, to take a breather. While doing that he let the old fellow, trusty appendage, have his relief, and rain fell unto ground that had expected but given up its long-held hope some thoughts ago. It strangely, unexpectedly turned her, the lady of the church into a salivating, and humming, scaredy bird of sexual titillation. She turned her modest shoes, a pair of hand-me-down green Birkenstocks toward the temple. And when the tinkling ceased one was aware of the urgent patter of those pious feet. All sounds then stopped inside the sanctuary, where thoughts and small perceptions can be measured, only to be judged by dire threats of fire and damnation. She smiled then, at the thought of putting out the fire by sensual drops of welcome rain, so seldom seen.