The storm

The storm was announced but I refused  to listen. The tree was on blossom, but the storm came. It rained, so badly, many branches fell, the pink blossoms blown by the wind, but the tree, still there, tall, strong, firm. Grasping with all its strength to the soil. It’s dark, and it’s all wet. The flowers are weary, the floor full of leaves, broken and dry. But the weatherman has announced the weather will be better, to just wait a few more days. And that blossom will be fully pink again. The flowers will start to grow again, the sun will shine so warm and bright that it will dry all the rain away. In the meanwhile, I have to clean up all that is dead, make space for new life, pick up all the leaves, save the flowers that survived, fix some smaller trees, in general, heal the garden. It will take a while, but it should be ok again. Right now it stopped raining, some showers here and there every once in a while, but no more real harsh rain to kill my flowers. The clouds are still around, the sky is grey, but beyond it I know it’s blue, and the sun is there. I just have to wait a little, and one more night, I might be able to see the moon again and all the stars, shining bright. The storm has washed away all it needed to, now it’s time for renew.