The Beauty of a Storm

Aldo Leopold, in "Come High Water", writes about the special peace that comes in being stranded by floodwaters, unable to return to work or regular life, and forced into a special type of seclusion.
Solitude.
Solitude is what I experience when I step outside, under the cover of a porch, and feel the cool, blustery auguries of an approaching May thunderstorm. The grackles attempt to defy aerodynamics in a feeble attempt to return to a favored roost, long tails perpendicular to their intended destination until they submit to lesser offerings, whether winded heads or tails, as long as this vector results in a perched perspective. The majesty of a towering thunderhead, rumbling and grumbling like an old man's belly,  dark as slate and flashing with power, puts me back into a peaceful sense that all is right with the world-- God is still on the throne, and I no longer am burdened with some false notion of personal omnipotence or uber-responsibility.
Thank you, Abba.