Sunset Thunderhead

Driven- 159
Stephen N. Dethrage

I idle at the light turned green, deaf to the honking of horns, blind to the display of fingers. Before and above me looms the biggest, most beautiful thunderhead I have ever seen, the grimacing face of a massive storm. Sunset paints the unbelievable cloud ten thousand colors, from a stark white at its visible peak to the dark blues and blacks of true rain clouds at the bottom, with scarlets and purples and creams in between. My car finds its way into park, and as the traffic builds behind me, I decide I've driven enough, and merely marvel. The cloud is massive enough that each time I trace out a definite shape in its contours, another is suddenly apparent. I see the profile of a woman relaxing in a bubble bath, as clear as day. A tiger appears, then a motorcycle. The colors shift and change in secret ways, and on the ground, I idle, and am awed.