The Water

It’s raining again. The power is out, and I can’t find the candles.
I look out the window at the darkness.
There’s leaves and branches in the drain along the street, and the water is backing up.
If it keeps raining like this, the street will flood. Then, the water will crawl up the sidewalk and work its way up to the door.
When the water knocks on the door, I will answer it.
“Hello, water,” I will say. “Welcome to my home.”
The water will glide over the doormat and into my front hall.
I enjoy having guests over.