We’re having fabulous thunderstorms here; our new rain barrel filled up with just two cloud-bursts, and now we’re wishing we’d set up more barrels.
The air has cooled considerably, giving us much-appreciated relief from the past few days of high temperatures and high humidity. Best of all, we are meditating to the soothing rush of rain on the chapel roof.
Walk me to the thunder place, where lightning spears my belly to the ground and I am deaf to all but the song of God’s silence.
Walk me through cloud-mountains, where vagrant shafts of sun ignore those huge gray fists and laugh their darkness to a lie;
walk me into curtains of rain, where I catch a hailstone the size of a honeydew and make of it a gift to the wild wind.
Walk me into the sky, and then let me go free and joyful into a starry night.