A Micro-Second 'And A Inch'

Gad!  These NOAA projections get closer to RT ('real time') the closer I get to NT ('no time')!  

Get this:  clouds at my window's 2 o'clock high, circling counter-clockwise, slow as even fast-moving clouds do, from our south.

Casually, I click on National Weather Service and find a bulletin placed there a minute before warning of a hurried hail storm coming, ice big as a penny!

Thunder crack.  Pellets smacking the house gutters and walkways, gully-washing the street and swamping the sewer-grate which gulps like a whirlpool, like a drowning man.

While one cat burrows under bed, the other stares from safety at the backyard slider, as I watch with it the wads of white hack at the wood deck as if envying it its splinters.

Then over.  No single bullet lies a penny big, nor e'en a ha'penny, perhaps a farthing size, but angry-faced, a foe well-dead, de-energized.

And the bolder cat jumps down from her couch, and stretches to be scratched and to nosh.  So I give her what her boldness has earned; I scoop her her kibble, designer fat girl meal. 

And I think about Weir's movie, The Last Wave, where the Abos get the last word and we all go down. 


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