A slow rumbling roll of thunder roused me from my slumber this morning. As I look out the floor-to-ceiling window of my fourth floor hotel room I can see standing streams and pools on the asphalt. Toward the south a low edge of clouds sits above the city. Wisps and streaks beneath them indicate that it is raining a mile or two away. Much closer, heavy-bellied clouds dip and swirl while lighter curls stark their white against a bruising sky.
 
It does not suggest the dawning of a beautiful day but I like the stillness and the way everything seems a bit softer. The dark leaves of callus lilies rise up in front of the grey stone wall that curves the outer edge of the hotel drive. Just beyond them a planting of small trees spreads lime green leaves above the band of beige and copper of mulched river stones. A bit closer, the muted pinks and reds of roses form clumps and clusters of pastel colors.
 
Even while mindful of the threat of storm as darker clouds form above us, we may choose to see that there is yet beauty in this world. And He who has made both rose and thorn has offered us peace, even in the midst of aggravation and affliction.
 
 
H. Arnett
6/14/17