Thunder rolls and rain falls in torrents. Flowers drink in the life giving water with thirsty roots, and trees are delicately laced with new-born leaves, the ends of a beautiful dress moving in the wind. The storm rolls through, loud and cleansing, and we sit on our covered bench watching the lighting flash in the cloudy mid-day sky. puddles form in the low lying ground, and ripple like guitar strings as each drop of water from the sky breaks the small well's surface. I sit with my partner and we enjoy the clean air as the remnants of winter wash over the land.
After some time, the storm passes and the smell of ozone and dew wafts its way into our noses. Each drop from a leaf, each ripple, silent waves of sound and vibration we can only just hear. The fading thunder like the deep drums calling life forth from the earth. We stand, my partner and I, and we walk the paths laid in mud by many footsteps. We slosh through puddles and watch as the flowers bloom. Droplets fall on us as we walk the path under branch and bow, by grass and flower; with wind and soil. The world is coming alive in these moments, as sunlight breaks through the clouds.
My partner's face with alight with warmth. She smiles, feeling the humid air fill with mist that churns around us on a gentle breeze. Sunlight shafts through the trees in splendid pillars to the canopy of blossoming trees and infant leaves above us. We hold hands, and begin the walk home. We pass by colors, Pink, Blue, Violet, Red, Yellow. Splashing the green canvas with juxtaposition, and drawing our eye from place to place. The last sounds of thunder resolve after a long flash in the distance.776Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJDFOLnDShp
Each resounding drop like a guitar string.
Each roll of thunder like a voice.
The resolution of Winter, and the beginning of Spring.
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