The sky turns the color of ashes and the trees start doing ballet.
Bending and twisting , little branches take flight.
Windmill spinning, the flag proudly waving like a kite.
Suddenly a roar crawls along the metal roof drowning out the sound of the television.
Everyone stops to look out the window at nature’s brief tantrum .
Minutes later blue sky appears as the clouds rush to the next county to get a little more attention .
All that’s left are the puddles .