The Turning

Minutes later, the clouds began to anger, turning, twisting in hate, acid tears start to fall. It’s black now, no more sun. Mother Nature has turned on us, with the flick of a wrist. The winds have picked up, as birds that were once singing, are now scurrying for shelter. The cattails dance no longer, beaten down by the breeze they once called friend. The trees struggle to stay rooted, before stood majestic and mighty, now are like ragdolls. Sheets of rain crash down, never to cease.