Color-commentary: Calling the thunder storm

The skies are starting to show the thunderstorm line is soon to arrive. High wispy clouds pull thinner, fail. Low, there, a mass of gray stone seep slow from behind tall oaks. 8:26 The low thunder rolls. Deep rumbles muted by the distance, growing bolder. 8:29 First lightening. Slight thread taught, pinned from cloud bellies, then cut free. 8:31

The skies are starting to show the thunderstorm line is soon to arrive. High wispy clouds pull thinner, fail. Low, there, a mass of gray stone seep slow from behind tall oaks. 8:26

The low thunder rolls. Deep rumbles muted by the distance, growing bolder. 8:29

First lightening. Slight thread taught, pinned from cloud bellies, then cut free. 8:31

A brisk hummingbird rushes to my right, seeking a last honey dip, it stalls, faces me. Close enough for me to hear it’s brattle-whirr, then scoots out towards the east. 8:33 PM

The breeze unevenly twists the tall tree tops. That one buckles, trips. This one is still. 8:34

Second lightening. The air is cooling, cold. The lowest clouds drift north. The highest hide behind a sunset glare. No birds, the secedas screetch.8:35

Low hanging purple clouds press into the valley, clip the tree tops. A slow curtain canopy pushes to the east. A tall tulip tree bends, the leaves rush-rattle. 8:38 PM

Quiet, quiet. More thunder roar. The air grows heavy, weighted. Thicker to breathe. The charge, the nighting darkness presses the light down. 8:40

The asphalt road glows dim indigo, bruise, gray, grayer. The cut leaves scamper down the lane. More lightening, more. The air smells of wet wood and new flowers. Lightening. 8:44

Darker. Lower clouds. North-east. The boom behind the west trees ghosts a giant approaching. Darker. A lone lightening bug seeks others, finds none, wafts into the reeds. 8:46

Darker, how is it possible? The oak tops sway. More lightening. The air smells of dirt. Spiked! Lightening sharp blade cuts over there, through ten trees and ramped down into the earth, mirror-tree of blade-light, razor patch cuts the sky to pieces and scamps away, invisible, gone. 8:48

Darker, trees full stop. Gaps in the clouds hold the only light. Less gaps. None. Slow sky monster taking the light away. The front is here. Its line wobble floats across, water wave on wave, pulling toward the empty space. A neon rope, from horizon to heavens, slinks onward, behind the dense bungle of trapped water, held to bursting. 8:51

Soft, no sound, unlit quiet. I lean into a vestibule. Then shaft, the wind is racing, the trees torrent. Blue black brown red sky pulls the trees haywire. 8:54

Fast glanced, a short gap of hot orange sun-sky prooves it’s been setting. The blistered underbelly of the storm pushes lower. Thunder. Thunder. Geese honk overhead, east. 8:56 PM

First rain, spits. Horizontal lightening, jump rope tugged, flashed gone. Quiet again. All dark. 8:58

Boom! The wind races, trees grab for the ground. The sky orange over purple over infinite light-less. The short husky apple tree stands guard over the grasses. 9:01

Rain. Pouring. The sky returns to darkness. Thunder. The breeze blows backwards, rain washes horizontal, whirl-pooled, spat, tossed. 9:04

The storm blankets the shift from day to night. Solid rain. Solid sky. 9:15

Lightening brights the whole land in flashes. Here, there, again, again. I squint, duck, try to see from where. More rain washes into rain puddles, the road is a riverstream. 9:16

Thunderbooms right overhead. Sawing at the air. Sudden brightness. Rain, rain, rain. 9:18

Then full stop. Sudden calm, calmer now, as if all that passed was merely a short stay, a respite from the night. The clouds move higher, lift against the sky.  Steady rain follows now. The worst has passed. I’m heading in. 9:20 PM

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