Dreary skies grow more dismal--
A thunderstorm, lightning looming.

A single-prop engine buzzes
Overhead, descending for a
Three-point landing a few
Tenths of a mile away.

Clouds pass in the opposite direction
At a reminiscent time-lapse pace.

Treetops wave with clamorous cheer.
Closer to the ground, wind chimes
Remain curiously silent, motionless
As the dense pack whooshes, drizzles,
Then spatters rain--sweating, speeding
Towards the finish line,

Well ahead of the sunshine.