It stormed here today.
Not completely unexpected, mind you. But after several days without a cloud, one becomes hopeful the storm has passed.
For four days and nights, the weather was dry, uneventful, and the clouds separated, more than once, to reveal blue skies and multi-colored sunlight, as I allowed myself to be lulled into a place of anxious comfort.
Before the storms came.
And thunder rolled in the form of a sob that filled my head with sounds no one else could hear.
No one ever, really, lassoes the moon…
© Copyright 2007-2008 Stacye Carroll
Are We There Yet? 
Sorry for the stormy weather there. Weather can be such a tricky thing. What a lovely picture for what is another piece of evocative writing. And…by the way…George Bailey lassoed the moon.
Thank you for reminding me, George…
This is exquisite. The symbolism of the flooding of emotions is superb. You know what? It is as good as you secretly hoped it was. One word for this: fruition.
You are a writer. There’s no turning back.