As I hear the pitter-patter of the rain against the window
I think of new beginnings.
Reconciliation.
The budding of the spring.
Pinecones popping
A sign of the blooming.
Then the hail thuds.
Pounding ever harder, ever more constant.
I think of the dark in the night; the never ending doom.
My body tenses, and I cannot relax.
The wind howls, the rain slowly dies.
A new day will begin.
This is the calm.
The calm before the inevitable storm.