If the Wrath of God had a color, it would be the ever darkening slate gray beyond my window.

It’s a deepening shade of ash.  The white houses on the rising green hill are as humble and as incongruously light as matchboxes.  The firs in their backyards are like scrub brush.

The lightning has turned from intermittent to frequent, and now thunder shakes my floor.

Virginia is under tornado watch.

One thought on “If the Wrath of God had a color, it would be the ever darkening slate gray beyond my window.”

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