Innocence, adolescent, coalescence

The rain patters and beats over and over
as wind rushes through the nervous horizon.
Each time the mist touches down, a great electric arc leaps
between them.  The storm
smiles and looks over the land with its vivid blue grey clouds.
It is a beautiful storm that nurtures and enchants all the trees, sidewalks, and homes.
It is a storm that cannot return enough.
Thunder doesn’t roar but giggles.
Wind doesn’t shriek but caresses.
The rain beats faster and faster, eagerly flooding.

-AM