Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

August 10, 1913 (continued)

And then followed that, which perhaps for some who don’t like the roar and dash and blow, is the best part of a thunderstorm.  The force of the tempest is spent – thunderclouds have long ago rolled away and there remain only a few haggard clouds left behind in the hurry scurry of the storm.   The soft quiet rain falls steadily and lullingly.  As twilight approached the clouds take on a misty dreamy appearance and as the shadows fall the rain quietly ceases unnoticed, we do never know when it stops.  A calm and peace comes down.  The thirsty earth has drunk of the water, now she goes to sleep satisfied.