Storms

I love storms. I love hearing the thunder echo as it rolls over the mountians. I love the sound of the rain pounding against the gravel outside. I love listening to it all with my window open.
When the thunder comes, I have to stop what I’m doing and honor it. I have no choice. When it comes and goes, before the rain hits but the lightening is crashing in the distance and the clouds are creeping across a once sunny sky, the light shimmers throught them like a crystal and breaks apart. The freed colors seek out their partners on earth and make them glow. For a moment, the whole of the world is lit from within, and it glows with a vibrancy that is brighter than the sun.
In the summer, it’s beautiful and sad how quickly a storm comes and goes. But all things, be they beautiful or horrifying, pass in their own time and their own way. We carry on too. But when the rain has stopped, I still lie and wait for the thunder.

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About Morgan Maria D'Isidoro

Morgan Maria D'Isidoro has lived in Baltimore, MD for most of her life, saving a handful of failed escape attempts. Given the murder rates, she'll probably die here too. Morgan is a writer of speculative fiction and poetry, a musician of dubious quality, cat aficionado, art history fangirl, kitchen sorceress, recovering pyromaniac, accomplished liar, and an all around person of questionable employability.
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