STORM:

Bang, slam, crash, the scowly sea is angry at the irate sky for shaking her awake, stirring Neptune at his slumber. The naked black mountains growl with hard rocky wrath, & the lashing, spitting wind slaps my face, & laughing, she runs ahead of me disappearing around the corners of soggy streets. Spring is dressed as Winter, fooling everyone in her wake, "come to my costume ball, everyone is welcome" she howls. If this squally lady thinks to make a mean enemy of me, she is mistaken, as my whip-lashed, purple walk challenges & invigorates me.