7/22/2018
I sit on the patio knowing the storm is coming. The wind picks up strength, first talking in a whisper then yelling, as if sounding a siren of what is to come. The once-waltzing trees now dance erratic freestyle as the air changes its tune. I should soon seek the safety of shelter, but not until I feel the first drop of danger fall from the graying sky. No, until then, I will remain resolute, writing of the bountiful beauty that blows around me.