Some sunlit Sunday when the wind began to paint; swirling lines around windowed tombstones,
Chroming dull, jutting decay and the ironic dancing of litter; saturated with audacities,
Shading the herding commuters with realism and the scattered loiterers in impressionism.
Not forgetting the multi-toning of everything with tornadoes, and the requisite highlighting with hurricanes.
Then for some; the inability will be – to see the bigger picture; with all the unnecassary force
Of incessant rains upon swollen, rolling seas.
This weather has found it’s new career.