Below the clear blue sky, the livestock roam about in the fields, the women chaffing, the litluns pace around aimlessly, the men under the shades and the sun’s like burning to its last. Like it is angry at something that serious.
But in at one corner of the sky, like a dark predator, the nimbus steals upon the day. It’s like blue vs gray. From its innards breathes out a cold gush of wind and slowly diminishes the sun.
Far below all this atmospheric drama, the cattle clear, the women scatter off, each recollecting her belongings; clothes, litluns, food and the like while the children, like high on something illegal, scamper off into all directions. It’s like to them, the stormy winds is an intoxicant and you can’t blame them for their actions anyway. The trees, tormented, twist from side to side like dancing to a disco drum, the grass swathing to and fro and the dust rising to the high limits but high at the heavens, the battle is fast raging on.
The nimbus roll on fast as the skies rumble, like a military battle tanks’ parade, cover the ears of the mortals and strikes of lighting, sharp and fast like forks of a poisonous snake pierce through the skyline, instilling cold chills through the people and soon, it lets down into a cold chilly shower………chaaaaaaa