The sky above is dark grey.
But from the North and South,
bright clouds make the landscape glow.

Deep rolling roars break the symphony of birds,
the whistling of the wind,
and the bristling of the leaves.

The breeze cools my face as I watch this spectacle,
occasionally stirring me with a cold drop of water.

Every now and then, a bright spark lights up the whole area.
Most often the lightning finds its way to the ground.
Occasionally, they don’t make it, and go up again,
seemingly disappearing into nothingness.

The sky is gray, but not somber.
The winds are strong but not punishing.
The clouds are thick but not threatening.
No, I love this sky, these winds, these clouds.
And they love me.