This Moment - 5:26 P.M.

The fires burning on the shore of the island are smoldering to ash. Twin circular kites pitch and twist fluorescent pink, yellow and purple double helixes against the cloud-glutted sky, which is a bleaker shade of lead. The wind is showing the trees who's boss with sucker punches to the kidney and groin. Wind chimes swing violently and clang their discordant music. The puppy barks his annoyance with the wind pushing against the French doors and snaps and paws the air. The older dog growls a warning, lips bunched to reveal worn teeth. The puppy takes this as an invitation and receives a nip. He retreats to his bed for a brief time, comes to the side of the bed for a pet, then runs at the glass again. Now the trees branches turn slightly upward and gently sway, as if dancing. All is suddenly silent. The sky darkens. Haggard clouds are torn and frayed at the seams. The promised storm is preparing to announce itself.