In storm-ridden skies I feel comfortable and excited
And sometimes I imagine I’m a miniature version of myself
In a heavily wooded forest taking shelter from the storm
Under a giant dotted mushroom
Or in one of those burrows in the hole of a tree trunk
Like something from the movies I watched as a kid
I grew out of most childlike feelings
And my imagination has since morphed into a darker kind of trepidation
But that one feeling is of the easiest to slip back into
Whenever smoky clouds roll in and the energy in air dramatically shifts
The clouds take their shape into a canopy of trees
And suddenly I am but a small, defenseless creature of the wood
Protected from the rain but still surrounded by its rhythmic falling
Watching from my mushroom umbrella
As drops of rain land on the parasol of leaves around me
And dribble down the blades to the tune of an xylophone
As if God Himself is striking the keys with a soft mallet
Every drip drop drip drop
A subtle but melodic note
The patter of rain and the drum roll of thunder becomes a percussion ensemble
And the world around me a perfectly decorated terrarium
In storm-ridden skies I feel comfortable and safe
And my childlike imagination runs rampant once more