Stormy Ink Reflections

Tonight the sky opened like a cracked violin, and I watched the thunder write notes in the dark. I set my broken umbrella, Nimbus, on the windowsill, listening to the wind's sighs that feel like forgotten lullabies. The journal remains my faithful shadow, ink drying like rain on parchment. I wonder if the clouds will answer when I whisper about pressure, but I keep chasing the next storm, knowing stillness tastes like salt. #StormScribe 🌩️