The atmosphere grows heavy in anticipation of the storm to come. Lightning dances across the dark masses of cloud, thunder roars its dominance. The air is lilted with the pungent smell of earth, petrichor wafting through the breeze.
The monsoon brings with it something so poetic and beautiful, it defies mere words. Longing for distant day dreams, nostalgia for something never felt, deep cravings for the sublime. Goose flesh breaks out on your skin as the wave of cold hits, strong and refreshing. Nature seems different somehow like were off beyond the twilight zone, a place where anything might happen.
The first droplets of rain caress the earth, quiet and subtle. Then in an alarming chorus, the downpour begins. Drenching everything that dares step out of a shelter. Its fury inexplicable yet somehow still majestic. The showers work with the gales to beat anything in their path into submission, the world theirs to command. Darkness only interrupted by the occasional flashes in the sky.
Peace reigns again when the skies retire. The rebirth of the world, everything painted in new colors, crested with a newfound aura of serenity. The last traces of rain trickle down from leaf blades, dissolving the quiet with a resounding drip. Toads join in the symphony with their deep croaking and slowly the magic dissolves
And there you are, a blanket wrapped around you, a mug of hot cocoa warming your palms, staring out of the misty windows. An audience to this great play of nature.