The dry lightning flashes over the hills

Dark clouds not yet obscuring the sun, but rapidly approaching. I can see the remaining calves bobbing as they return at an uneasy pace. The rain falls like a fallen shelf, the inaudible groan of what is too much for the clouds coming down to earth. I turn around, the wind picks up as I return that last few into the barn. My cap nearly falls off as I lock the gate and hold my cap down as I trod back uphill to the house. The wood creaks from my feet but more from the gale winds. Window panes flapping against the wooden walls and I go to each room to close them. There is a kind of calm and serenity in it all.