I spent an hour watching a storm come in. Drawn by lightning flashes in the distance to watch from the backyard. Stormy clouds and underlying meaner ones sail by at different pacing, but the yellow sky behind the layers is what I’m looking for. Moving up, taking only fifteen minutes to arrive, the tallest trees know first–I suppose because they are that tall and can see further than the rest and me. They cannot speak, so violently shake their heads around, in circles almost; they are so very excited.
It’s overhead, the patch of yellow sky I stare at for a moment before it opens up in sheeting rain crisscrossed by lines of jagged light. The customary drum roll is behind the graphic scene–I wonder why man chose instead to place it first?
Loud, louder, loudest pounding drops of heaven’s sweat upon the roofs and walks and all that couldn’t hide. The air lights up around me and the sudden fear makes me jump back inside, but I am smiling and I leave the door wide open.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology