It slaps against the window pane and rolls like droplets of tears falling down a cheek. The moaning wind howls to be seen as it pushes and pulls everything it touches. Its stormy music comforts the heart yet frightens the soul. With pulsing torrents building to a crashing thunder. Grey clouds hold the sun hostage and torment worshipers with lighting bolts across the gloomy skies. Its sudden end surprises the senses for fear of its impending return.
Babs Work In Progress 