I love storms.
The promise, of thunder.
The possibility, of lighting.
The sound of rain on a tin roof.
The rush of the river.
The music the rain makes as it dances in puddles
In an attempt, to lure us out to play,
The sound of the wind in the trees,
There is no symphony greater,
No music invokes such emotion.
Sadness happiness all rolled into one sound.
The Allegra and Crescendo of the rain.
The flute sound of the wind as it whistles through the trees.
The bass sound as the river rushes the banks
.
The storm menu always the same
Fresh bread and soup.
The smell of bread baking and simmering soup,
mixed with the scent of smoke
and crackle of the fire
set a mood.
Curling up on the couch with a good book
and three fingers of whiskey.
Lost in the music of the storm,
the warmth of the fire,
the scents of fresh bread and simmering soup.
Together
They create an atmosphere, of
peace and contentment.
Oh, how I love a good Storm.