Yesterday afternoon, there was a hailstorm - we were sitting in the conservatory - icy pearls fell from black clouds -
I was taken aback by the suddenness and violence of the storm - it appeared from nowhere -
A frigid wind blew up - the hailstones were sent whirling through the darkening air - apple blossoms were torn from tender branches -
I watched the pine trees sway in the wind - hailstones bounced off the lichened box tomb, glistened amongst the grass -
When the storm ended, as suddenly as it had begun, I went outside into the garden - I picked up a sphere of ice, and let it melt upon my tongue -
Later, I saw that some hailstones had fallen down the chimney - I saw where they'd melted on the hearth -
I pictured three witches, riding their sieve off Winspit, calling up the wind - they were garlanded with foam - they were singing wild songs -
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