A Storm

I woke at 4am.  To the West, the sky was red.  To the East, it was still dark from the night.  I saw heat lightning and clouds. "Red skies at night, sailor's delight; red skies at morning, sailor's take warning," came to mind as I moved back into my bed and drifted off to sleep.  6am came too early but the weather excited me.

Rain reminds me of jogging through the woods not being able to decipher between the sweat and the drops that penetrate my clothing.  It reminds me of those summer afternoons when the torrential downpours would suddenly cease and the steam would rise slowly to the sky from the hot asphalt as, once again, the Sun would make her appearance. 

Thunder remind me of those days at the beach, staring through the balcony screens towards the horizon, as the wind blew through, watching the white caps increase and decrease until once again, the water was still and the clouds had moved inland.

Lightning reminds me of all those cow fields I'd pass each day on my way to school and how one time all the cows under that one old oak tree died because the lightning struck.  It reminds me of home, and no tv or electricity and how of all my friends I was only one who was not afraid.

Storms are beautiful and nostalgic and dramatic.  I felt happy today because a rare storm blew through and I got to smell the earth and the asphalt and the dog that left his muddy paw prints on my white carpet.