I am not a big fan of thunder. As a child, I would hide under my bed covers and pray hard.
Even now, I try hard not to be intimidated as the bolt of light whips the air around till it trembles and moans.
As I write this, I can hear the air around whimpering . I see it weep steadily and the ground, like a dependable tissue paper, is absorbing all the embarrassment and pain almost effortlessly.
I know this show of emotion shall end soon. And then, it will be bright and cheerful again.
