Storms

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.