You remember when you were young and the sun was starting to look droopy on the horizon -- getting ready to slip under its covers.
You knew mom was going to yell at any minute, "time to come take your baths." When that happened it would be time to slow down, drain the energy from your limbs. Night would soon massage your eyes with darkness till you crossed into dream land. Your romping was over. The smell of night would hypnotise you.
What did you do? Knowing the call would come at any minute, you hurried up. You ran faster. Jumped higher. Yelled louder. A protest again the veil of dark. Spend what energy you had left. Don't let the night have it.
This was the scene in St. James Parish yesterday afternoon. Clouds were bumping into each other all over the place -- pushing and elbowing each other for space.
This one threatening cloud was getting squeezed, like a small kid thrown into a circle of bullies. Pushed, knocked down, tossed around helplessly. The cloud was getting madder and madder -- cheeks puffing below with black anger. All the while. holding its rain drops in its icy heights. Ready to start swinging at anyone and everyone, throwing punches to the wind. Soon the anger would be too great and it would hurl its icy bits of water filled with sting at anyone caught below.
The sun was sleepy-eyed and would soon be saying "come in for you bath" and this cloud didn't want to leave without fighting back. Striking out. Lashing. Stinging.