Washed In Nature

by Chris Morales. 0 Comments

The trees are signaling to me that something is going on.  Their arms flailing around incessantly make them hard to ignore.  Something violent and powerful is in the air.  Something approaches that I want to experience from the safety of my windowed room.  An overcast afternoon quickly shifts, now encroaching and lingering overhead with bad intentions.  As I peer out at the waving branches and sense the howling wind suddenly a torrent of rain crashes to the ground.  The sky is black with anger and the onslaught of precipitation crashes to Earth in a  million-billion cries.  Like a shroud these bullets hail down and obscure the view.  I rush to the window to get a better look and am awed by the immense power and the fantastical show that I am audience to.  The blowing of wind is now seen in the shifting of rain from right to left, back and forth.  The two performing a lively dance as one guides and leads the other.  The street is littered with wet and the Earth oozes refreshment.  

Now as the torrent slows to a halt, I open my window and a gush of air, new and fresh, knocks me back and engulfs my senses.  I’m bathed in a rush of feeling and smelling.  I can taste the Earth in the winds.  I can see the colors that are created from it.  My skin tingles at the brisk chill in the air.  It’s awesome and invigorating.  As the Earth is refreshed and replenished, so to am I renewed with this attack on my senses.  I am washed in Nature...

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