Receiving the thunderstorm

You have remembered the earth, and the rains that desire it (B’reishit Rabba 20.7, based on Psalms 65:10)

Its entrance is nothing if not flamboyant:
A portentious clap,
A pronouncement resounding from a positively charged fog of ice,
It has surmounted the horizon!

How shall we receive the turmoil? I, along with the vanished birds and the grounded creatures, hold our anticipation.
I am staring at the treetops, eyes raised for a further sign,
Until eventually a flash whipping through the atmosphere drives me inside.
But the sky remains unruffled while rolling its forces gently forward.

Still nothing, until one redoubtable drop splatters upon receptive pavement.
Now the unplanned attack quickly unfolds: others who were merely waiting for encouragement,
Race to imprint their thuds and duns upon everything in their path.

Their voices join in clammer. They discover a pond,
Where water on water refracts residual light through layers
No longer concerned whether they are liquid or gas.

The entire earth hails the unrestrained gift.
The clouds applaud and the sky echoes.

The treetops are caught up in Dionysian response,
Thrusting their arms about in rhythm with the carnival wind.
All questions are submerged in the general charge.

Finally the airy masses say, enough.
The clouds take a breath while considering where to head next.
The mist lifts from the pond and the wind extricates itself from the fevered branches.

Thank you for attending, announces the receding thunder.
A space for regeneration opens.
The sun shines through a window pane.

Andy Oram
June 20, 2017

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