Here I am.
I sit, cross-legged on my bed facing the windows. It has been a hot day; one of those that just zaps your energy.
But now it is late; late and cooler and with a touch of liquid in the air.
It begins to rain.
Soft pattering mostly; pit pat pit pat pit pat like tiny feet.
The soft pattering becomes something bigger.
Slowly slowly bigger bigger until it is a roar!
Can you here it? That sound like a ghostly chorus?
steadily it comes.
Onward it comes.
for me.
It rattles my window frame and creeps in through secret holes. But I am not afraid, for it is a playful wind this night.
The sound of it is now full. drowning out the rain and tugging at my soul.
I want to go.
It lashes out, flinging rain drops at my window.
I yearn to go.
It is powerful when it chooses;
lifting stones and swaying trees.
I am outside; arms stretched to the blackness, sprincled by rain,cloaked by the wind.
I need to go.