ANGRY WINTER

The season was just returning to winter, and winter was mad, and even jealous because fall, summer and spring gloated when it was their time. One night, winter decided to take vengeance. Rain fell and the climate fell with it, thus, the harder the drops, the faster ice began to form on concrete. There wasn't even a warm blanket of mud. Fires sparked when thermometers broke into pieces as a result of the ice. And then I saw broken branches from trees that were fallen, fish themselves in the flood as the rain drops crashed to the ground, and as if nature had no control over her own body. Sculpted branches bent over helplessly, as the wind blew leaves off their stems. Lonely trees they were, as if they had no ancestors to bear with them through such brutal force, especially when the thunder violently shook the trees and their foundations. Then, I looked up into the fierce sky, and watched as the lightning began to get destructive, mercilessly ripping wires in half, dangling from telephone polls. Fear fell into the hearts of children who were cuddled and tucked away, and hiding up under their blankets, fearing the sound of the windows rumbling from the stalking wind. Moms and dads were sleeping in rooms next to their children while the night was entombed with silence. All the lights were off. All you could hear was the storm raging with wrath and beating on roof tops. Anyone who was stranded outside in the woods without any means of communication was in a death trap. I heard the sound of a cat in agony as waves from the floods stampeded the byways and the ditches.

It was about a half hour later after the storm, when everything stopped. I thought it was over. I was convinced in my mind that I could breathe again. It was the strangest pause I'd ever seen - no sign of wind, no swaying leaves, no sign of lightning, no rain, and the dark sky was seemingly clothing itself in royal navy blue colors. In the far west sphere of the sky, I could see white warm and cold clouds form as if airplanes left traces of smoke from the engines. "The smoke," I thought to myself, "it is the steam from the rage of mother nature's - Angry Winter!"