Waits

It is early morning, waiting by the pier. A scattering of people bustle to and fro, but not many, the forecast says there is a storm on its way. What was once a humid morning has changed. There is a drop in temperature and the sky is painting emotionally. One side of the sky is clear, one side carries the darkest cloud, no furry edge, no wisp. Yin and yang part the sky dramatically.
The first flash lights the parade and sends people away to shelter, as the people retreat, the first rumble rolls in, lazily behind light.
The sun shyly hides now, behind the thickening cloud, the parade’s morning light is sucked away, the second lick of lightning lights the pier in blue, and then the count is two, as thunder’s rumble is catching up. Only the romantics remain, the fearful are all gone, the waiting will not abandon the crackling air.
From the darkness an intense powerful flash, sound teases then let’s out its explosion in one almighty crack, the storm is getting closer. Now a dark curtain hangs into view, already cleansing the ground no distance away, the surreal sight of a sky tsunami approaching. Jolts of light with a thunderous tail, the tingling air is swept away with the washing of the parade. Through the dark daggers of water, a single stranger approaches, teasing lightning with an umbrella. Once more the air is torn with sizzling light and growls. The stranger shares the shelter and says “Good morning, pleased to meet you”.

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