Thursday, March 31, 2011

In the eye of the storm, there is a calm.

There was a fleeting moment on the usual rush of a commute home that I was able to get distracted by the clouds, they having just rained all over, under and through that Mayberry of a city I work in. It was on the one loop that leads to that long stretch of highway towards my building that I caught it, my first impulse to stop in the street's middle and turn my few seconds of distraction into out-and-out admiration. The clouds overlapped themselves, creating contours and caverns and purples and blues, a wavy ceiling not so high above, a sort of mountain range I didn't have access to. What was once so apocalyptic in scope (trees and branches breaking in the sudden darkness, strong winds the cause of swaying buildings, the report of one woman who was lifted 10 feet into the air before dropping back down again, downed power lines and so much more) had given away to some undeniable beauty. The calm had revealed itself and seemed to ask forgiveness for the power and damage it'd unexpectedly wrought not so many minutes before. 

I should have stopped. I know the others wouldn't have.

This is my photograph.

No comments: