Storm clouds gather,
a tense sky ready to weep,
a prelude to chaos
in the symphony of nature.
Thunder rumbles,
a distant heartbeat,
audible echoes
of the earth’s raw power.

Raindrops fall,
a thousand tiny drums,
beating on leaves,
a ritual of renewal,
a cleansing of the soul,
dancing in the tempest.

• Gino Bartali