The Dance

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With each year comes some new whether that seems more intense than anything from the year before. However, two summers ago, something happened in the sky that was never to be surpassed. It struck bewilderment into the minds of those who saw it.

There was a thunderstorm brewing. We were standing on the deck of a cabin watching as the storm grew closer to us, and a hint of the smell of rain found its way into our nostrils and filled our lungs. This was the first summer we had gone to stay in a cabin up by Spooner, WI, and as a whole, it wasn’t something any of us were soon to forget. This specific event was one of the ones that would stay with us forever.

The clouds grew dark over Lake Dunn. The storm was visible on the horizon, even though it was many miles off. Despite the distance between us and the storm, we could still see what was going on. It wasn’t long before the sky turned from a lovely shade of pink as the sun was setting, to the deep gray it had transformed into now.

The clouds grew together, massing to submerge the atmosphere with their eerie presence. As they grew stronger, so did the storm. Soon the sky was a sea of ashen clouds, thick with waves of steel and chrome ripples. This storm crept up at the peak of night, magnifying its very being exponentially. So much darkness was bound to bring up fear in us, the onlookers.

Then something extraordinary happened. The skies began to a dance, like a ballad for the angels. Streaks of light flashed in the distance. Blues, purples, whites, oranges, the colors spread out through the sky, if only for a short moment. Along with the quick arrival of the lightning, and the even more quickly of exit, our eyes twitched, gazing across the sky as if to follow these beautiful lights. They were like fireflies in the rain, difficult to follow for their paths were only there for a spilt second, and then they were gone.

Although it hadn’t reached us quite yet, the rain was soothing the ground with its moisture, even if in a very violent manner. We could feel the cold wetness of the air, but the drops would not touch our skin, for the water-bearing clouds were still too far off. Still, we knew it had to be raining cats and dogs on the other side of the lake, because we could hear the water pounding against the ground as it fell. Though the sound was very faint, it bounced off the lake and echoed back to us, bringing the song of the dance.

The music was beautiful. It sounded other-worldly, and the instruments in the orchestra were ones that no man could play. All of a sudden, the tempo picked up. Invisible drums filled the air with their might. The thunder had arrived. The dancers were stomping about now, getting more up-close-and-personal with the audience.

Everything was there- the melody of light, the bells of the raindrops, and the bass line of the thunder. It was a perfectly composed masterpiece, so we listened. We listened until the sky allowed us to no longer. The storm, with all its complexities and beauties, was over within ten minutes, and the skies returned to their former glory as other nighttime sounds set in.





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