It rained for three whole days, and this morning the worms were up.
As I walked to work, the sidewalk was treacherous with undulating invertebrates. I had never seen earthworms like these; they were huge, luxuriant, some nearly a foot in length. They were so massively majestic that more than once I caught myself on the verge of bellowing Shai-Hulud! in round, reverent tones.
Why do they do it? What is it about rain that makes these wriggling subterranean burrowers burst forth to journey along the surface? What do they seek? Or do they even know?