It's raining. Thunder rolls in the distance. The air is cool and lightning strikes on the horizon. It's every characteristic of a storm, though it doesn't quite feel like one. Maybe it's the way the birds gossip in the canopy of branches far above me. Or the way the clouds are so lightly grayed that I can almost see the blue sky behind them.
The rain falls harder now. And the thunder grows from a low rumble to a fierce roar. The bird's songs are muffled, as they hurry to the shelter of a drier place.