Far from the path of a hurricane

A summer storm in Michigan. 

I don’t know about you, but I love to watch a summer storm roll in. 

I find comforting the rumble of distant thunder, the stirring of leaves, as they turn silver in the rising wind, the flight of birds, finding shelter.

On a summer evening, as a buttery sun melts into the sky, with the promise of rain on the horizon. . . I wait.

Standing barefoot on a manicured lawn, under the eaves of a brick house 
in the burbs, under cover of gathering clouds, somehow I feel wild and free.  

One with the planet.  Energized.  Ready for the rain.  

Next morning, the air is still, heavy with expectation. The day breaks with the chatter of birds, and the cry of insects in the rain-soaked fields.   Soon. Inevitably.  What blooms in summer must fall. 

Photos: VHenoch
With thanks for stopping by. 


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