The last remnants of a passing storm gently rock my hammock
The mountain-like clouds of the eastward retreating storm reflect the last rays of the westward traveling Sun
The reflected light from the thunderhead falls calmly over my right shoulder and instead of turning to gaze at the towering storm clouds or the golden sunset I pick up my book
The distant thunder softly calls for my attention, but I don't listen
This is when I feel rich
1 comment:
I too love a good summer evening...a good summer storm for that matter too! We almost bought a hammock in Nicaragua. I wish we would have!
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