Rumours of rain and war

This is an afternoon thunderstorm, Northern Sydney style. A day, hot and slightly hazy, the presence of the desert continent carried on the breeze in a way you can almost smell. Not so much hot as vast and slow. Sunlight with a yellow-orange cast and bushfires burning in another state. Dense grey clouds that clot overhead in a matter of minutes, then mass, biding their time and rumbling to each other in Brobignagian conspiracy as the desert heavy wind slows and the rumour of rain lies heavily over the querulously chattering birds and drooping trees.