where the writers are
Typhoon today

The skies are painted white and gray and other shades of unnamed colors,

they growl fiercely, rumbling grumbles like an upset stomach;

the skies look down on us all and spit in anger, tempers flare,

we tremble at the splashing impacts, blinking, crying, and

we get wet, but

we get by; say

bye rain,

hello,

sun!

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