In the summer days I'm in love with every bright hue; yet under the storm clouds I welcome the softer colours, a juxtaposed palette of real tranquility.
Storm clouds today bring a dappled swirl to my blue irises, strength from within echoing strength from above.
I've always loved the thunder storms. I've always loved storm-cloud-grey. To see them swirling in the heavens brings a kind of inner glee. If I could reach up and bring down a handful of that cosmic swirl, if I could make a fabric from it that was ever-changing as the sky above is right now, I'd wear it forever. As much as my soul is renewed by the springtime flowers and the light, I was built for the fight, the sort that brings the soul cleansing rain.
The clouds were the kind of grey that would make any quarry rock proud, as if they were so pleased to echo the earth. All the grey, all that swirling water in the sky, condensation was bound to happen sooner rather than later.
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