CLOUDBURST...

Working at my kitchen table, a low rumble draws my mind to the view outside. The sky the color of cold ash, the pond like a mirror set in the grass, no life, no motion, still, like the world holding it's breath, the calm before the storm. I feel it creeping up my back, the dog moves to sit by my side, dark Jurassic cloud shadows loom over the house and across the lawn and on. The surface of the pond breaks into hundreds of pebble tossed rings then suddenly erupts into what looks like violently vibrating marbles. The trees are whipped into a frenzy of reach and recoil, the reeds and grass flattened against the banks of the pond, the winds howl and strum the slats on the porch railing, the windows rattle and the dog snuggles closer to my feet.

As quickly as it came it slithers off over the ridge, and across the valley, toward the mountains, chased by the sun. The pond now sparkling bright with greens and golds, the ducks back dipping and splashing, but the sky and mountains are the color of blue black slate, a single white bird flaps across the heavens waving it's benediction to the storm.