Gathering Storm

Static.
Hairs pique slowly on an unseen command.

Robin’s egg blue begins the fade
to medium gray.

A low voltage samba pulls the skin tight,
as the temperature drops
and the change in pressure
plays with your hearing.

Nerves set ablaze,
send shivers up spines.

Dust billows from parched earth,
as brittle leaves begin to chatter
like party goers at a grand soiree.

Gray darkens.

The wind stops.

Calm reigns for but a moment –

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CRASH!