Savannah

Watching the storms roll in over the marshlands
Sends a chill down my spine to the small of my back.
As the winds pick up,
And the grasses sway and hiss,
I feel powerless to stop it.
This is the rainy season.
When the blue in the sunny sky
can be ripped away in an instant,
Over-taken by harsh gray clouds and that heavy storm air.
All is silenced.
All is calm.
But only for a second.
With one loud crash it sounds as if the sky is a plate of glass,
Shattering above my head.
Shards fly everywhere, shrapnel in the form of piercing raindrops.
As they fall heavier and heavier,
And the landscape before me is blurred,
Lightning cracks the sky open,
Slices it right in two.
A sharp, jagged bolt of white light,
Answering to no one, conducting the cosmic event with every strike.
I am filed with passion.
Fury.
Desperation.
My nerve endings twitch with electric energy.
This is the wild.
This is nature.
This is power.
this is life.
This is God.