The Storm

to me
 
 
 
 

Thick storm clouds rolled overhead. Their grey bellies rumbled with distant thunder. A harsh wind that couldn’t mean anything good was tickling the leaves of several large, ancient oak trees. The winds almost seemed to sing. They whispered and moaned, mumbling of things to come, things that are, and things that were. Everything was grey in the shadow of the approaching storm. Grass bent to the power of the wind. It rustled and sighed, begging the wind for forgiveness. A single drop fell from the sky like a tear. Then another, and another. Soon, the rain was pattering over everything. Tin roofs rang with hundreds of drops. Wood thudded dully with the water. Dirt clumped into piles, and then was swept away with a stream.

The rain sang a different melody than the wind. It sang of promises in an ancient language that had sang from the beginning of time. The rain drops danced in the sky to the tune. Twirling, spinning, diving. The drops pattered on the backs of cows. The large animals mooed in delight. Calves began to skip cheerfully, tails straight in the air. Horses flung their heads to the sky and flared their nostrils. With a thundering of hooves, they began to run in joy. Their tails flew in the ominous wind. Mud flew up behind them.

The trees began to sway dangerously. Their limbs twisted and bowed to the wind. Many leaves fluttered, trying to break free of the trees to skip along with the wind. Their trunks popped and snapped, trying to hold against the wind. The roots moved as if alive, surfacing, snapping. Dirt turned and moved. The storm clouds were overhead.

Lightening flashed and thunder clapped. Flocks of sheep started, and took off at a galloping pace, a huge white mass of bobbing wool. Bushes leapt into the air, carried by the wind. Their roots to the sky, the tumbled and rolled. Thunder shouted and lightening screamed in protest. A yellow streak lit up the sky and tumbled to earth. One of the old oaks toppled to the ground in a splash of mud.

The thunder roared and moaned. Trees bent almost double, and the grass lay flat on its belly. Shutters slammed, and doors creaked. Walls mumbled and windows shook. And, then, as soon as it started, it was gone. The last leaves tumbled with the wind, and then it was gone.

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