Thick, grey and floating.
Translucent lead with heavy scent.
A luminous sea smell of salt and saltbush hangs in the air,
and I pick it up.
Trembling nostrils capture it.
Inhaling, anticipating, the large rolling sounds.
Silence.
All flesh flinching. The life ripples up and down.
Head lifting, eyes scan the everything around, and wait.
The crack echoes the start of it.
A sheen, a sweeping quickening.
About the Creator
Michèle Nardelli
I write...I suppose, because I always have. Once a journalist, then a PR writer, for the first time I am dabbling in the creative. Now at semi-retirement I am still deciding what might be next.
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