the calm before the storm.....

Around 10:15 A.M.:

The sky glistened like a polished robins egg and furnace like temperatures radiated from the sand. The air was oppressive with its heat and silence. No car or motorcycle passed by. No bird called out a warning. No distant motor of a fishing boat cruising in the gulf or voice being carried over the lagoon. It wasn't just an absence of noise, it was as if all sound had been erased leaving an eerie stillness. Soon, the air in the front yard filled with butterflies and dragonflies. Hundreds of them. They seemed not to have a destination only a desire to stay aloft.

As if someone hit the 'on" switch, the palms began rustling and cars appeared on the roadway. The sky began to cloud up and blacken and the wind was cued to gust. Within minutes it was raining. The force of the deluge picked up until the sound covered all other noises and you had to shout to be heard. The next addition to this orchestral piece was the sound of thunder, at first a low rumbling like a giants hungry stomache. As the storm neared, it progressed to a base drum and quickly escalated to the sound of two cars careening into each other at high speeds, metal shreiking, electrical systems sizzling. Gashes of lightning snapped through the sky seeming to cleave through the coconut trees. The flash of light followed so quickly by thunder it was impossible to count to even one before the sound erupted.

Just as quickly as it had begun, it began to pass over. It rumbled away like an angry child stomping up the stairs. Once again the sound of thunder became distant and the feeling of surging energy ebbed. As the deluge continued to form small rivers through the yard, i looked at the lagoon to see the flamingos response. They lazily continued to scoop their beaks through the water sifting out the brine shrimp, unaffected by the rise and fall of barometric pressures, sizzling ozone and monsoon like downpours. Five minutes later, the rain stopped, the water soaked into the sandy terrain and the last of the clouds cleared returning the sky to the original robins egg hue. The only proof that anything had happened was a soaking wet, red Mexican blanket thrown over a front porch chair.