Now The Oak Tree

I stood out there as the sun painted the edges of that approaching storm pink. Wispy fingers blew by. Night fell. Flashes lit the sky, and with each the storm came closer.

Then the thunder came: at first a hint of rumbling in the distance, then loud crashes following each flash. The temperature dropped.

I turned and went inside.

At first, I thought I heard a skateboard hopping on the pavement. At night, in the dark, I thought I heard a skateboard. I turned to look out the window, but saw no one. I went to the door and looked out the window -- no one. Then I heard another skateboard slap, then another, and then another.

I opened the door. Hail was coming from the sky, falling in lines unslanted by the wind. It flew off the roof andat odd angles. It bounced off the ground and rolled on the sidewalk.

Then came the rain, a torrent of water and mist swirling in wind. The rain fell. The hail fell. The wind blew. And the oak tree in the front shook and twisted.

In minutes it was done. And now the oak tree stands still.

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