The cloud formed upside down, rising, roiling, raging almost into a thunderstorm anvil, lightning almost sure to vein the edges and shoot ‘bolt from the blue” far from the rising storm. It was as though hail would soon roar and crash , shattering on impact, gales born from the belly of the rapidly growing cloud, floods to rush garbage cans as suburban absurd boat races.
It was milk.
The cloud was growing upside down.
In a pool.