through the eyes of a monk

The monk went out to the front yard of the monastery when he felt the first roll of thunder. He raised his eyes to the heavens and sighed. His cataracts wouldn't prevent him from taking in all the beauty of the show that was to come.
He gawked into the distant valley, noting how the heavy clouds dimmed the light of this summer day to a brownish hue. In the fields to the south, he saw the cows and sheep of the priory, patiently grazing and oblivious to the imminent storm. There had been birds chirping from the trees nearby, crickets singing in their holes, the crack of the whip of a carter driving his load of hay to the neighboring village, and all of a sudden, the only sound he could hear was the rustle of his habit being softly blown by the wind. There was a flash of lightning, and with the clap of thunder that followed came the rain.
He could see it pouring down on the hillsides first, like a curtain of leaden dust, playing with the echoes of the roaring valley. He saw then how it fell on the winding road at the feet of the mountains, and in seconds, felt it reach the point where he was standing. It started with a low murmur that increased its volume little by little, plic, plac, plac, in the meadows surrounding the monastery, and soon he was feeling the water drops on the naked skin of his tonsure, on his face, his slightly stooped back, and as he extended his arms, he was deeply conscious of each raindrop as they touched upon his body. He realized that Nature was offering him a symphony with the drums of the thunder thrumming in the immensity of the valley, the strings in the leaves of the trees along the path to the church, the wind playing with the clouds above and whistling through the grain fields.
It was over as quickly as it had started. The music of the rain started to fade towards the horizon, and silence pervaded the air as the wind suddenly stopped. The monk blinked a tear from his tired eyes and saw that the mountains loomed in all their greatness over the valley in the same protecting fashion as usual, that the animals resumed their normal life as a couple of shy rays of sun managed to make their way through the clouds and the few drops still falling from them. The rainbow that followed was as if the director of such magnificent orchestra was bowing before the audience.