Storm

A stunningly blue sky.

White cotton balls of clouds scuttle across the open expanse.

Sun illuminates the world.

It has no origin;

Existing only to reveal and frighten away the darkness.

The breeze that was only moments ago caressing my face so gently,

Blows hair in my eyes.

I blink.

Leaves shudder, fighting to keep their tenuous hold.

Those that lost their delicate grip swirl around me.

The breeze has been overtaken by a stronger friend.

Its friend is not my friend.

Whipping the clouds out of their cotton ball shapes,

Forming them into dark masses across the horizon.

The world is no longer illuminated.

Shadows appear in place of sunlight.

The wind’s power frightens me,

Bringing dusk into daylight.

Its ability to transform a world,

The way the branches bend and sway at its touch.

I am forced to retreat.

The wind buffeting me,

Telling me I am not welcome here.

The leaves do not say goodbye,

Preoccupied with their struggle of opposing the wind’s force.

I see more leaves lose the fight,

Bend to the authority of the building storm.

A storm that has taken the world by surprise.

Wide open blue has morphed into a threatening ebon monster.

The sun is blotted out,

The trees are overpowered.

I resent its authority.

Yet I cannot question it.

I can wait.

Wait to see the next day.

To examine the wreckage.