Sunset over the Puget Sound

21 Nov

The water of the Puget Sound is steely, cold and wild.
The setting sun places a band of rollicking, brilliant gold down the back of the Sound that crashes into the bulkhead. The wind moves clouds fast overhead. The dull ubiquity of “overcast” break up into armies, squadrons and platoons of cloud formations racing East toward the Cascades. The lowest clouds rush like impatient youth. And so on until the paralax of clouds appears immobile over the Olympic Mountains, some one hundred miles West. The clouds over the Olympics dwarf the mountain range, piling many tens of thousands of feet into the low atmosphere, becoming mountains themselves.
In this way the sky is ominous and dreadful.
The low running clouds from the dark mountain-clouds push the waves against the bulkheads.
I have to hold down my cap in the wind.

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