The Storm...

The rain beat hard against the darkness, its drumming an incessant rapid staccato rhythm as it hummed its melody into the night. Likewise the wind, wanting to play a bigger part in the piece, grabbed up any loose and willing  instruments it could find to strike and bang against any available surfaces in continuous, calamitous gonging, the familiar whine of bending sheet metal and crashing debris adding to its constant reverberating whoosh as it rose and dipped and rose again, seeking more and more noisy toys to scatter and flail in its wake.

The sudden crack as lightening split the night with its trademark and savage intensity, burned the night air as it made its way between heaven and earth to summon thunder in all its frightening and majestic glory and said to no one in particular and everyone at once that this was not just theatre, not tonight, no.

Street lamps, bending this way and that, fought to give light to the unfolding drama even as drops became streams and streams became floods to swirl and rise and move everyone along, even the formerly stationary who thought themselves immobile.

The dancers were called out as trees waved madly in the breeze, branches straining against all reasonable expectations before snapping under the force and the strain. The howling, unrelenting storm made known its intentions without doubt or supposition. Nature was not just alive tonight, it was rampant, and every creature on God's green earth was advised to hide from its fury.

The sound of the sea in the distance was a roar, as it flung itself again and again against the coastline as if wanting to rush up on shore and contribute to the noise and circumstance, nothing being held back in its ferocity.

There is no room for the plans of the small of stature and the insignificant when the big boys come out to play, and if the storm is their celebration, then tonight, tonight was going to be a festival.