Storm

Wind-tossed shadows

cascade through a cashmere sky;

timorous grey and smoky sapphire

luminesce in a penumbra of twilight

and sweet nocturnal moon.

Sky billows like a maelstrom, clouds

splashing and rolling

and breaking, sky against sky,

crashing into tendrils of white foam and

spray. Damp

petrichor whips through roaring wake,

musty and mellifluous

sweet and somnolent.

Rolling and

beating,

roaring and pulsing,

fingerless mist beats a thousand drums

and voiceless sky screams, hot and jagged:

they collude. They hiss, and gush, and

mutter. Swelling

and swirling around an eye of serenity,

their breath rips the air

and their skin is torn asunder

and raging incandescence strokes the bitter earth.

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