There is a storm moving in to town. It’s a change from the warm weather, but it feels right. The weather fits the day. Darkness on the horizon is alive and certain in it’s presence. Rain in the clouds, reaching for the ground, is where it is meant to be. Wind moving through the trees is comfortable there; caressing the branches. The roots grew, specifically to hold the trunk, for this dance, now. Even the chill and snow, turning spring back to winter, is perfect today. The only unusual aspect, is me, here.