Storms

When the sun sets during a storm, sometimes its rays bend through the sky shining one last glimpse of light, brilliant pink and purple, blue and green, off the towering thunderheads, in original tints and shades. Sometimes the sun invents new colors, used only once in all of time, to paint the clouds of the fierce storm before giving way to the horizon's cover. Then lightning dances its web through the colored cotton clouds; here, then there, every time a surprise, every time a wonder. The clouds are washed down to the earth like the wisp of a child's watercolor smear. Beauty and danger dance like lovers. The fearsome and wonderful thunder gives rhythm to the dance.