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