Heavy grey clouds crossed the heavens. The air was warm, but I knew the storm was coming. The color of the night sky began to change. The wind picked up, pulling at the marsh grasses. It grew dark, and the sound of crickets began to fill the night. The cats sitting next door on the pavement of the driveway, watched a few squirrels, too bored to give chase. Soon they padded away to home aware of the change in the weather.
The thunder rumbled , low and far off. First their was just the light hiss of falling rain. It grew heavier, the fat drops splatter outside the window next to my computer. Now I can see the pavement in the pool of light from the street lamp.
The rain dances in the puddles. The thunder is closer, but it remains dark but for the occasional stab of lightning, that vintage camera flashbulb you knew as a kid. I still hear the crickets, but the rain has driven man indoors. The sound of people, and cars is wonderfully absent.
I’ll sign off soon, and turn off the lights. The rain and gentle rumble of the storm is a pleasure to listen to from the safety of my spot on the second floor. I can look out on the newly created rivers that run through the streets to the drains. The rain is cleansing the earth, watering the plants. I’ll sit back and close my eyes, lulled by the patter on the leaves of the trees and roof overhead.
This storm shall pass, and the world will reset with a new day tomorrow.
An Unmapped Route: A Hiker's Blog 