Sky's Movement

The skies are tainted a deep red in morning,
But the tears will not fall.
Thunder will not sound and
Anger will not clash in silver brightness.

The wind will not blow;
All is quiet in anticipation,
An anxiousness that stirs the breath
And weighs heavily on the mind.

Wait silently, world, 
In unexpected quietness. 

Catch your breath and hold it,
Wait with silent watchfulness,
Always waiting, never moving.

What will happen?
If I blink, will it be over?

Too nervous to move,
Too curious not to.

What will make the sky break?
How violent will it be?