That storm was a woman.Once nearly silent; she sat away in the corner. Her beauty and sparkling eyes disguised her strinking tongue. But when she was tired of being some plaything, some doll, she opened her perfectly accented mouth: but no one heard or cared to listen to the words she had held for a thousand years. And that morning, before the sun had risen or the children had begun to scurry about, she made herself known. The flashes of her fit and the cracks of her cries made her desperation spill out onto the earth. And the moemnt I opened my eyes that newborn day, I knew it, that storm was a woman.