Breathe deep the gathering gloom...

The first storm has passed, lightning concussions fading into low rumbles at the sun’s advance. But the maple leaves are still turned over, aware in ways the cowan are not that this is only halftime. The dancing rage of a second wave is on the way. The lake is calm now, taking a breath before the harmonic cacophony of downpour turns it into a glistening minefield once more, a halo of light at the edge of the horizon. The animals remain hidden, taking no chances against that is coming. Can’t wait for the light show.