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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.