When Lightning Speaks
from 99 Words in the Morning by Wil Robinson
I sit on the deck in the rain. Birds hunker down beneath a limb or heavily leafed branch to wait it out. Yet despite the rain and their hasty shelter birds sing their enchanting songs. Their silence comes only when the lightning speaks.
Lightening is a bully; it forces itself upon the world. On the forest floor untended brush bursts into flames at its touch; fire crews make haste. Branches crack and fall from repeated blows. Dogs’ tuck their tails under as they crouch, trying to hide their heads. Children whimper—“Mommy?”.
What does the lightening want to tell us?
