The Storm
Not sure if I can actually do this justice, but am going to try.



The sky was getting darker as I drove home this evening.
Normally this time of day, it is still bright out.
Obviously a storm was in the making.


I got home, put the car in the garage,
fixed a small pot of decaff. . . then went to the porch.


The sky was full of swirls... different shades of greys and greens.
If you looked at the treetops over on the hill, you could see the branches just staring to move in the wind.
A flash of light...
a pause or two...
then a muted boom of thunder.


As it drew closer , I got a cup of coffee, pulled a chair up and sat down to enjoy.


Where I was, there was no wind.
My chimes were silent.
The flashes of light started to grow brighter and brighter.
Slowly, the wind picked up...
it was a nice cool breeze removing the moisture from today's humidity.
Across the way, I could see my neighbors flag, flying from his barn, starting to wave in a more 'crisper' manner.


So here I sat.
Feet up
Coffee in hand
Watching. . .
Waiting. . .


And it hit.


The sky grew dark with turmoils of blacks and greys intermingling together to create a view to the eyes that only an artist could copy... a camera would not do it justice.


The trees, in the near distance, were beginning to dance as the winds blew across them.
The wind started to pick up, and my chimes woke up in a beautiful discomboomerated way.
The branches of the trees in my yard started to dip and sway to a tune only they could hear.



An increase in the streaks of light in the sky.
Light. . . pause . . . Boom boom boom
Light. . boom boom boom
Light!
Boom!
Light! Boom!!!


The neighbor's barn became a smear of burgundy as if in a fog.
The chimes danced as if it were their last day on earth!
The hail sprayed the yard with a coating of crystal white!
The rain was spraying onto my legs!
The noise!
The winds!
The mists on my face!


. . . and then it drifted past.


the streaks of light became fewer.
the booms becaume muted again.
the chimes became silent.

and all that was left
was the drip...
drip. . .
drip . . .
from the branches of the trees as they shedded the rains that had bathed them.

It's quiet now.
The winds are calm
The sky has clouds, tinged with pinks and purples.
And all you can really hear are
the songs of the birds who had hidden in the rain.


Later.
Jovi