Some years ago, I was traveling on the M-Oceanview light rail line in San Francisco to a dinner spot on West Portal. At the very end of West Portal Avenue, there is a stunning view of the Pacific Ocean. It was an early spring day, and showery all day, and cold.
I remember that I looked out over the ocean -- broken clouds, shafts of gold still visible, gold and silver spots on the ocean, deepening to red.
A HUGE thunderhead turned bright red -- like vermillion -- and, as I looked, sheets of red poured down from that cloud to the ocean, like a curtain of light, like a sheet laser, sweeping over the surface of the silvery water and on to the shore.
It is a good thing that I was at least a mile away from that shore. That gave me time to realize that this was a thundershower at sunset, and I was about to be soaking wet. Five minutes later, there was wind and pouring rain and thunder and lightning over my former position.
My FORMER position.
Even dazzled by extraordinary beauty, I do have sense enough to come in out of the rain.
This piece is my musical recollection of what I saw BEFORE I realized I needed to get inside... red showers in a cold and glorious spring sunset.