This overcast evening I walked to Promontory Point and watched as an ominous black cloud, reaching down from sky to earth, almost like a tornado, traveled north. It left in its wake peaceful white clouds and mist, all tinged pink by the setting sun. It did not cast a shadow on the water, but turned it a darker green as it passed overhead. Meanwhile, the wind was roaring in my ears and whipping the water into a frothy frenzy.

To the north — the sound and the fury. To the south — the reflections of the last rays of a summer’s day.

I will be surprised if I do not dream again tonight of an apocalypse.