tempest

i love the anticipation of a storm.
the clouds gray, the skies overcast.

the world seems to freeze, to hold it's breath.
always, always, one will hear a door slam, the rush of closing windows.
sometimes, the whistling of the wind.

then, just when i give up watching and waiting for the heavens to open, it will pour its heart.

the anticipation of a tempest is a beautiful feeling.