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the works of storms

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I’m stuck in the office, late at night. I’ve been here since the break of dawn. Working all night can really change someone. It’s about 10pm and the outside weather seems to be brewing. The wind can be heard whistling through my miniature excuse for a window. I can hear the thunder roaring, pulling my concentration from my work to the sounds. It beckons me to leave myself and just listen, but I can’t I’m working and that’s what working men do.
The sounds seem to be dying down and I can return to my work. I’m a lawyer, working at time firm, in the city. Trying to finish this work for the big case tomorrow, is very difficult with this storm.
The rain is picking up again. It reminds me of my little boy. He’s acts like a little storm of his own, when he wakes up in the morning; destroying everything in his path. This seems like it’s going to be a big one, the storm that is. It just started to rain and I hope my family is safe. I have to return to work now.
The electricity in the building shut off and I’m alone. The emergency generators will turn on soon. This is what I tell myself to ease the nerves. I’ll get the work done and be home soon.
I look out the window and see the dark, billowing clouds, the frantic flying birds, and the empty streets. In my miniature window I watch the storm pass. The trees sway back and forth, almost as if there are saying hello. I sit there in total darkness, looking outside the window, watching the trees and animals dance a violent dance. Faster and faster they turn, swaying this way and that, leaping, jumping, twirling, until suddenly, the dance is done. The power turns back on and I’m back to work.





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