Mammatus clouds.

Bulging from the underside of Cumulonimbus clouds that precede or herald the arrival of a severe thunderstorm, these clouds strike fascination in awe in almost everyone who sees their beauty to behold.

Mammatus are indicative of strong turbulence in the upper atmosphere as a result of the violent nature of thunderstorm updrafts. They can be smooth, lumpy, large, or small. They can fill a small portion of the sky, or fill the entire sky completely with mammatal goodness.

Mammatus

A Pouched Sky, Turbulent.

A Forebearer of atmospheric violence

A reminder of what was.

Frolicking in the skies, hanging down with zeal

The Mammatus makes violence known

with intrinsic beauty and flair.

Mammatus, the cloud of grace and beauty

Harmlessly addicting in their majesty.

Sunset in the Plains

Columns of air that move upwards and onwards

Boldly, courageously pushing their limits

Forced by the troposphere, you can proceed no more.

Resigned, they spread left, and right

Turbulent, where to go – a hostile regime.

Folding under, folding over, the sunbeams announce

their existence to a world of carbon and water

with reflections of oranges, reds, golds and yellows

the Mammatus shine with elegance

and boldly display their chaotic realm.

One is reminded of powerful columns of steam rising from factories. Developing thunderstorms -indicated by towering Cumulus and young Cumulonimbus – are some of nature’s most amazing sights. Towers of condensed water vapor rising into much cooler air display their violence with every turret, bump, and hill – forcing their way violently into the atmosphere above. Soon, these dramatic columns of water vapor will encounter cold and icy conditions, creating ingredients to produce electrical energy and precipitation of liquid and solid form. These elements being heavy and cool – are displayed on earth as rain, wind, hail, and lightning – making up the beauty of the thunderstorm.

A violent upheaval

An army of water, upheavals underway

Dramatic invasions, breaking the boundaries

of atmospheric innocence.

Hard, firm and white, visibly punching

rising faster and harder, the clouds grow into a castle

A castle in the sky – the king is in center court.

A castle of impressive majesty

And atmospheric authority.

Darkening out even the power of the sun itself

The entity responsible for it’s creation

The Thunderstorm roams the Praries

bringing life through rain

And death through destruction

An atmospheric double edged sword.

Can you feel it.

The feel of the air –

convection.

Can you feel it –

Energy unleashed.

Captivating, Mesmerizing

Upwelling.

Can you feel it –

Anticipation

The towers rising fast and strong –

Displaying their dominance

Asserting their influence

The givers of rain and wind –

The atmosphere of blue gives way

to Hues of grey

Trees bowing down to the relentless nature

of the Thunderstorm.

My country ’tis of thee

Land of opportunity

The flag against the Storm.

Our founding fathers viewed the same display –

Mammatus on a sunset day

What would they say of our world today?

Skies of Blue George Washington Knew

Towers piled high, did Adams wonder why?

In this nation we’ve unlocked

secrets of the skies

Yet we still ask ourselves

the same question – why?

Ben Franklin himself with marvelous wonder –

took to understand the creator of thunder –

And all these years later we ask the same questions –

why?

We breathe the same air

We observe the same skies

Yet our world as so different

and we ask –

why?

Why are some given rain –

and others left by?

Is it chance?

Why do some have the the grasses of green

and others have deserts with nothing seen –

Is it chance?

The random nature of all things that happen –

Is it chance?

Who’s to say why one gets the drops of cool water

Blistering heat to the far away daughter –

Is it chance?

The random selection of nature’s variety

Some get the blessings and others the tragedy

No rhyme, no reason, no thought to it all

It is chance –

Nature is nothing but chance.

Water above, Water below.

Spectacular.

A crescendo of tympanis.

The orchestra of the storm awaits the player.

Rain – are you ready with your bells?

The rain replies it is ready.

Wind – are you ready with your trumpets?

Yes, says the wind – I am ready.

The tympani awaits – the crescendos

of the Thunders of Zeus.

As the storm builds the player takes his seat -

tympanis shining with the lights up above.

He pulls out his Mallets – one positive, one negative.

And with every downstroke a bolt follows –

the Tympanis of the Thunders of Zeus radiate from the storm.

Play, Storm of Tympanis – echo your roars

echo on the praries, echo on the fields, echo, echo

echo away with crescendos and roars and tymphonic peals

Play, tympani of the storm.

Peace.