While the storm passes

It just comes pouring out of you, like a rising river in gentle rain, all of a sudden there is a rushing flow that cannot be stopped.

It can be missed out on if you don't watch - out of fear, distraction or disinterest - you'll regret not watching nature in full effect if it dries up without you. In the wake of a great storm there are full creeks and rivers, sunshine through droplets hung from branches casting tiny rainbows to the Earth, glowing like gems.

Mushrooms that rise up from where they hide, flowers opening up to greet you. The collective dance moves gently back into eaches own place on the stage to enjoy the light. Cool grass rests on muddy ground as the water drains beneath the soil to somewhere. Worms rope through a damp, cold underworld, warm and comfortable.

You sit inside watching droplets on your window as the wash lightens and dissipates to a bright patchy sky. You think about days long gone past, jumping in puddles as a child, or dashing beneath greyblue clouds as a teenager to get to school. Something about rain brings us home to marked transitory moments from our lives.

I sense that somewhere in my heart remembers every storm I've ever been through. And I wonder what lies ahead, what we will weather one day, but know there is little to be done right now for rain that has yet to fall.

When you're older, I’ll tell you how it is I stayed calm in times our world threatened to break itself. For now, be warm with your cocoa, child. Enjoy the glowing warmth we can only find on the coldest nights. Nestle into a blanket and listen closely to the crackle of the fire. Stay a while, here where there is only you, me, and the stories between us.

The storm will pass soon.