I biked to the river's edge and sat, gazing at the choppy water, the clear sky, the fishermen. Until Philip turned and said to me, "You might want to think about getting back home." Here's the sky he saw behind us.
It was that dark, that foreboding. There were rounded, curved clouds that made me wonder if a funnel would descend. I did make it home.
I tried to get a shot of the rapidly-disappearing clarity that I'd been gazing at, only moments before. It was slipping out to sea.
The sky was angry, but the air was cool at last, the wind refreshing. We won't feel that again any time soon.