Storms


The crystal clear lake created frivolous circles as the tip of my toe tested the temperature. Little minnows, disrupted by the ripples on the calm day, darted away. The array of pebbles lay in a distinct line down the shore from the previous waves the day before. The speckled and discolored sand hot from the kiss of the sun. Grass dunes spring from the sand, like daisies on a spring morning. A threatening thunder growls in the distance as gray clouds engulfs the outlying lakeside. The city, the size of my pinkie, looking forlorn and powerless to the advancing storm. Trees whistle with anticipation, craving the rain. Yet the waves remain relaxed, undisturbed. A doe, usually frolicking, sniffs the breeze. She darts back to the safety of the forest. However, I linger. A blazing flash of lightening glimmers under the dappled gray sky. One…Two…Three… Four… An eruption of sound shakes the aura of the littoral. Less than a mile. The minnows recede to the center of the lake. The movement of the waves swells with rage. The azure, disappears, like morning frost during midday. I somberly walk towards the storm shelter, a drizzle of rain begins to fall. Cold, icy drips fall. Starting slowly, they begin to get heavier, thicker and abundant. I turn around as I reach the cramped, wooden shelter, and I grin. The summer storms have begun.