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mjm4112 68M  
6 posts
6/25/2016 11:22 am
Tempest


It was the grey of the evening. Thick storm clouds swirled over our heads. That old wooden awning protecting us from the light rain that had started to fall. Once the winds had ceased I had gone in and brought back two light rain coats. Donning mine as I sat down and reached for your hand. I had lived to long here not to know what was coming. Settling in to watch it unfold.
There were holes in the clouds as the sun set. Shining rays of orange and yellow, like a spot light, unto the wave of black heading our way. Flashes of lightning bouncing from cloud to cloud like photographers taking pictures of the star entering the stage.
She was in rage and true to her form she was heard long before I could see her wraith. For up here where the air is thin and the valley so narrow, the thunder rolls between two ranges of mountains. Contained within those granite sentinels unable to dissipate or escape. Like the sound of a horn makes when driving through a tunnel.
We turned our chairs to face her, though moving back to the opposite side of this small porch. Hand clasping hand, smelling the rain soaked air. Hearing as the drops got bigger splashing against the tin roof. It was then that the wind suddenly calmed, just a light rain falling. Only the dim light from inside making your face visible. I turned and looked at you and said: “Here she comes.”
No sooner had the words cleared my lips when the brilliant flash of light up everything, touching the ground but a few hundred yards from where we sat. The instantaneous clap of thunder ringing in our ears. I laughed as you jumped and clenched hard on my hand. But the first was followed by one after another. A barrage of light and sound. The rain now pouring off the tin in front of us adding its splashing sounds as if a background chorus needed to complete the symphony. It was raw and primal, we watched, heard, breathed it all in, you and I, sitting there hand in hand.
She left as fast as she came, rolling down the valley, leaving a trail of thunder, flashes of light and rain on the tin in her wake. I stood and pulled you up by our clasped hands. What better way to make homage than in a warm bed under a tin roof being pounded with rain.
Mother Nature had shown us her elemental fury, now let us provide our own.


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