And the clouds in the sky are rosy-tinted as they rise high toward the peak of the heavens. Yet there is grey welling up at the base.
Suddenly, a bolt of lightning.
The rolling of the thunder follows. And soon, a white sky of rain is seen through the frame of the glass window. It falls quickly and is rushed across the land by a wind. As the speed of the storm picks up, wisps of rain and fog fly like ghosts from north to south. Fly, on! Thunder crackles close and rumbles. Those ghosts, or the tall legs of ghosts, are mesmerizing.
As the storm moves off, the clouds break up to reveal a blue sky. I seek to find the rainbow on this bright day, but cannot find any. No, instead, the rain returns. This time, it is racing even faster, from south to north.
South to north?
The wind grows in strength and howls, tearing the rain past the glass I stand protected behind. Then, the sirens of a vehicle join the chorus. It rages on for a short time before, slowly, gradually slowing, to a dim white sky.
Now it is quiet.
The flags hang limp at the poles, heavy with rain and weary.
I restart my computer and resume editing at page 5, sipping at my coke.