Some skies are sick.
Dangerous.
Some whisper loudly of tornadoes.
Warnings.
Some are simply queasy, eliciting vertigo when you look up into them.
Such was the sky last night.
Clouds swirled in opposite directions. Multiple layers of distinct shades, a darkly twisted ombre that would look better on paper or cloth than in the sky. There it swirled, ominously portending large, heavy raindrops, which fell soon enough, driving us indoors and under cover.
Summer has its own dangers.
This is not over yet.
