Thunderstorm

There was a time when people didn’t know when it would stop raining.

The wind informed us a storm was imminent and the lightning strikes hastily followed by thunder claps gave us the all hands on deck signal.

A violent deluge would eventually fade into a pitter-patter of welcoming rain.

It’s funny how storms slowly move on.  

There’s almost a sadness as the thunder fades into the distance.

Colorado feels old sometimes.

Erected neighborhood homes from years gone by are shrouded in leaves, and the streets seem reverent, not worn.

Cleaned gutters function as expected while clogged drains tell a different story.

The storm feels more distant now, like a friend who sadly moved away.

The lightning glow wanes, as it grows dimmer by the minute.  

We only know it rained because water droplets can’t lie and the spectacle from the previous night is but a fleeting memory.