Morning Storm On The Gulf
Omigod, this is one of those glorious spring days here on the gulf in Palm Harbor, eight miles from Clearwater. It is 6:30 a.m., and a storm hits with wind whipping the palms and big oaks, lightning and sky splitting thunder. It’s dark and threatening out there. My windows are open so I can feel the damp wind and occasionally a cold drop blown through the screen. The world smells rich and loamy, and the morning full of energy with the incessant rolling thunder, rain beating the roof, slashing of the limbs on the big oaks in their frenzied dance, and flicker of light through the dark jungle of my back yard from the lightning far above. The sky darkens and there is a riot of motion and sound everywhere, crashing fronds and frantic trees doing their prayer dance to the great storm god as the torrents pour from the heavens amid a shrieking climax of thunder and lightning. My backyard rain forest of palms, ferns, white bird palms, drink the warm downpour in a joyful feast of life as the storm peaks in an exultant climax with a huge drumroll in the sky, and I can feel the storm dissipating and moving inland, carrying with it the greatest orchestra of all in a traveling show that leaves a quietening here, distant thunder, the limbs and fronds now slowing to small dances in the zephyrs and my world and yard are sated and smiling a thank you for today’s blessing. Now there is only a steady gentle rain soothing my garden, me, my world in a post climatic peace. The world has made love.