You quiet my mind as you feed the earth.  The strength of your thunder, the flash of your lightening all serving to soothe the storm inside me.  Your wet rain kisses my skin, filling the cracks and crinkles of my parched mind as it soaks into the dark soil grounding my plants, burrowing deep into their roots even as it brushes their upturned faces.

You send a hush over the city, making the land, the traffic, the day-to-day bustle slow down whether it wants to or not.  You wind your way to your fullest expression, clouds gathering in force behind you, a welcome promise of a calm, settled evening.  I watch those dark clouds race across the horizon punctuated by your low grumble that warns the city of your strength, inviting the day to bow before your might.  There will be no late night frolicking or even an afternoon reading on the porch; windows are securely fastened shut, door tightly closed.  Inward I must go. 

Your crackle and light sooth me to sleep late at night, the downpour of rain finding me in my dreams.  I would run out and dance in you, if I could, if it weren't for the thunder and lightning.  I content myself with listening to your wild symphony--the only noise that can draw me away from my book and my place on the couch to simply stare out my window and listen and drift on the song that is my summer monsoons, my healing balm that washes over my soul.