It was a train in the sky.
A thunderous ballad of
unscripted percussions of
warm and cold colliding;
an influence without
equal. The oncoming front
sounded like a thousand warriors.
running hard.
Leaves turned over. Windows
slammed shut. Animals sought
shelter. A sequence of
distant low frequency explosions
pressed the air.
There is no resolve until it
becomes exhausted at some
distant place.
Roger Singer 