A Summer Storm
The air smelled sweet on the breeze, as it slipped between branches and under leaves. Two butterflies danced around each other in delighted loops. And the clouds, what there were of them, were small and white, puffy and without a trace of rain. Such perfection was not to be, for it was not long before a gust of wind came from the South and blew the butterflies apart. A sound crumbled in the air and echoed in the distance. Thunder. And then came the wind in great big bellows blowing through the golden fields that were soon covered in a thick gray sky. Thunder again, and this time the lightening cut, bright white and vibrant against the backdrop of dark, dismal clouds. The first drops were heavy, laden with the weight of a hundred tears. They splashed against dust. This was the third sign of what was to come, and it was then that the butterflies headed it, fleeing desperately for some dry hollow. An