Mahler Nature

A balding qwerty-jock recently wrote, "Texas midnights under the bruised but smog-free sky are never anything short of transcendant." Last midnight in Abilene was one of those. If I could accurately convey here in words not only the events of the evening, but the feelings they induced, your expression of awe would be child-like. Mother nature performed one of her best symphonies. The overature begins. Lulled, growling thunder from a seemingly nonexistant source beyond the horizon; barely audible at times. The haughty but brilliantly talented guest soloist, Lightning, enters before he's cued, with a magnificent fortissimo burst betraying the fragile crescendo the conductor had established. Nature's sopranos and altos, the chirping insects and slithery breeze, go silent allowing a second soloist to take the stage next to Lightning-his opposite but necessary dueller, Thunder. Now the audience watches and listens to a battle of showmanship. Whenever Lightning displays his talent, Thunder answers with an equally impressive solo of his own. The battle raged for more than 2 hours and with a cup of joe in hand, I had box seats on the couch on my front porch. The rain drops splintering after colliding with the ground and spraying my legs only increased my number of goose-bumps. Unwilling to budge for fear of missing a key part of the show, not even the audience's uninvited delinquents, the mesquitos, could move me from my seat. Well, the concert couldn't continue forever and slowly the two soloists acknowedged eachother's talent and gracefully exited the stage, blowing to the south but promising to return for an encore soon. The symphony is on tour-get tickets to the next show nearest you. You'll be glad.