White Thunder part 3

Nature infrequently pauses to allow for processing its beauty.  I try to write the words in my thoughts, but I thought and I missed it.  I tried to count one one thousand 2 one thousand and so on, to scientifically measure the distance between each lightning and my feet, but I couldn’t decipher who bore the crash boom thud or crack.  Its constant and appropriately here in Belize should be named white thunder.  I want to videotape it, and so I stand on a raised screen patio pretending not to be nervous holding the videotaper.  The camera cannot pick up the strobe lightning, and it definitely doesn’t pick up mist that is hitting my face through the screen.  The jungle is still alive, but I stand and wonder where are all the moths that fly around the lights that light up the path to the room? Are they under a mile wide jungle leaf?  Or do they air swim under a wall of water?  To think of a place where people mix blood and milk for hydration.  It’s impossible standing in the rainforest to think of such.  It’s unfathomable it could be the same planet.  Where are the monkeys that persistently drop logs on my tin roof?  I fancy the thought of sitting in a tree with them and watching the show.  The lightning strikes and it inaugurates raining from the ground up. It’s absolutely stunning and I have never seen a display of lightning such as this one.