the sky in the storm

When I left work I drove north to the grocery store, between the wings of the thunderstorms sweeping down from the north. It wasn't raining hard until I had to leave the store. A mad dash across the parking lot later I'm soaked to my underwear, missing one bottle of gatorade and I think I pulled something in my arm carrying all that up the stairs. Who puts four yogurt cups, a bottle of gatorade and a box of frozen hashbrowns all in one bag? F for Failure, grocery sacking kid. But that's alright.

I saw a sky worth selling your soul for on the short drive home. At the top of the hill, I was surrounded by the grey storm clouds reaching out and the pounding fat rain. Straight ahead, a fifth of the sky was framed by the storm. It was palest sky blue pink, with silvered cirrus and the last golden tint of the day, like a Renaissance painting of heaven done with the lightest touch. In the middle, just shy of the black hills, the giant red orb of the sun glowed briefly before it disappeared for the night. I have never seen anything like it and I don't think I will ever again.

The less beautiful part of my drive was the latest nail in my ongoing loathing for idiots who cycle around here. I was making an turn sanctioned by my lane, traffic laws, the traffic light and my redundant turn signal when some moron rode his dam bike across traffic and directly in front of my car. I almost hit him, and not from mean spirited-ness but because I honestly couldn't see the bastard in the pouring rain. No helmet, no reflective anything, as grey and washed out as a drunken hippie after Eeyore's birthday party. Idiots!