The rain wakes me, I, now refreshed from my first four hours of sleep. Laying in my bed, the window wide open, listening listening loving the sound of the rain. It comes straight down; I am protected from its full force by the long overhang of my small home's roof. Yet the wind brings refreshing sprinkles onto my face. The gray cat is the one to share my excitement of this delicious weather. She remains on the inside window ledge, protected but close to the outside. I am at camp again, a child, in the woods, the sound of the heavy rain on the trees. A crack and the boom of the thunder telling me the lightening is likely close within my neighborhood.
I think of the creatures of my backyard, who do live in the outside, who find their overhangs to protect them, in the ground or among the bushes, or under some other protection, burrowed away until the storm will pass. And perhaps getting wet, but shaking off the rain with their protective coats. They know when to scurry under and then when to emerge. And they, too, perhaps, can return to sleep refreshed. It is the black & white cat, who actually spent a feral kittenhood in the wild and knows, she is the one to find her place hidden away, perhaps under the most protected bed, perhaps in another corner; I never see her during these storms.
The intense weather passes. It is quiet again, darkness all around. The water has refreshed us with its gifts of life and growth and sustenance. The electricity of the storm powerful, astounding. I am left grateful and content.