The air has cooled and the rain falls so hard that it is difficult to hear the thunder.
It is a watery symphony; percussive and persuasive.
For me, there has always been an attraction to thunder and lightning. I find it exciting and comforting at the same time; alive and calm.
I am torn between wanting to snuggle in my bed and let it lull me to soft sleep, or to run outside and let it pour down on me. There is something so cleansing about it, physically and emotionally, like a very good cry.
There is actually a sweetness to the air. It rests on the sides of your tongue as you breathe it in, allowing you to taste as you smell, or smell as you taste. Or smaste.
It is the freshest of the freshest air and it is glorious.
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The rain has softened. It still falls, but it is quiet and soothing. Still constant. Less urgent. Still hypnotic. Sometimes it increases and then pulls back again, like a sensual lover, leading and releasing. There are no further signs of lightening, all is peaceful.
This definitely tips the scales in favour of enjoying it through the open window, from my bed.
Good night rain.
I hope you are still there when I wake.
