Brainstorm

There is a storm brewing.
In my mind I hear the wild roar of the wind,
The waves crash upon the shore,
The shouts of the unsuspecting.

The air is heavy.
In my head, spirits fly through the trees,
Milk-white shadows in the sky,
Bringers of the savagest destruction.

The darkness is cutting.
In my mind I feel the spray bombard my skin
in a swirl of cold and hurt.
The red warning signal. Too late.

Midnight, and it has begun.
The savage roar is heard in earnest.
Those who suspected nothing cry out in hoarse voices.
And I stand watchful. Waiting.