Prelude to a Sunrise Thunderstorm

Last night, the insistent wind demanded to be let into my house. It pushed its way in through my half-open windows, the shades rattling their discontent as it entered. It swirled through my room, all clothed in scents of trees, of coolness, of coming rain. It left through my door, the hinges creaking with its passing and the latch acknowledging its leaving with a click.

I could have shut my window to its passage, but instead threw open the complaining shades and breathed deeply of the summer day that was done, of the one that was anticipated. I opened my door wide to ease its passage without further disturbance, and I sunk into my bed with dreams of summer days to come.