The sky is angry and throwing things. They fall and smash and the lights sparkle off the fragments. The birds are afraid, cowering in the trees, frightened to make a noise. The trees are whispering to each other in hushed tones while the wind is still and breathless. The air is sweet, heavy and intoxicating.
The sky is darkening, reaching the zenith of feeling, tears freely falling. The wind becoming excited, rushing and shaking as the ground begins to tremble. Water sluicing along bitumen while arrows of pure feeling arc towards the earth.
The day of black sun was amazing for her pure beads of light, gathered over the surface. But she had nothing on a storm.