The elements are scheduled to descend upon us later today. If the rain ends up trapping you inside, sit down with a book of old poetry and read verses as timeless as the rumbling of thunderstorms (or think about the hint in this post about one of LIVE’s upcoming guests).

The fields of liquid air, inclosing all, 
Surround the compass of this earthly ball: 
The lighter parts lye next the fires above; 
The grosser near the watry surface move: 
Thick clouds are spread, and storms engender there, 
And thunder’s voice, which wretched mortals fear, 
And winds that on their wings cold winter bear. 
Nor were those blustring brethren left at large, 
On seas, and shores, their fury to discharge: 
Bound as they are, and circumscrib’d in place, 
They rend the world, resistless, where they pass; 
And mighty marks of mischief leave behind; 
Such is the rage of their tempestuous kind. 
First Eurus to the rising morn is sent 
(The regions of the balmy continent); 
And Eastern realms, where early Persians run, 
To greet the blest appearance of the sun. 
Westward, the wanton Zephyr wings his flight; 
Pleas’d with the remnants of departing light: 
Fierce Boreas, with his off-spring, issues forth 
T’ invade the frozen waggon of the North. 
While frowning Auster seeks the Southern sphere; 
And rots, with endless rain, th’ unwholsom year. 

— Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book I