June 10, 2018.
Summer storms are a funny thing. One minute the skies are black and all hell is breaking loose, yet the next, the skies are blue, birds are chirping and and Mozart is playing.
Such a stark contrast. The natural progression of a summer storm. The calm chasing the chaos. The cat chasing the mouse. Thunder, angrily lashing out again the Earth. Lighting, striking down upon thee with great vengeance and fuurious anger. Storm clouds, consuming the horizon. An eerie silence, before the howls of the wind- a thousand chained beasts screaming in unison, deafing all in it’s path.
All for but a passing moment.
A single turn of the hour hand.
And then, just as suddenly as it arrived, it was gone. The banshee thunder, replaced by the song of the Sparrows. The strobing lightning, expelled by the gentle rays of the sun. The meancing clouds, chased away by a perlecent cotton candy familiarity. The air, crisp and savory. The world is beeming. The storm, eradicating all the evil and anger. The bitter and spite.
The world is bliss- if only for a brief moment.
The storm had come to pass. Loathed and evaded, overlooked for the vital roll it plays. Unrecognized, but desired.
The storm. A friendly foe.
Leave a Reply