The storm is a fierce wolf.
Unstoppable and wide-eyed.
It sprints across the dark sky.
Like a dark, blinding night moon.
The air rumbles with the sound of a deafening, wild howl.
It runs in the snowy, gloomy woods, making footprints in the deep snow.
With its rough paws, it tramples over the landscape.
Completely steady on its feet, it will never stop running.
Raging, sprinting, jumping over everything.
Thoughtless, outrageous and uninvited.