she's angry

The cool early spring winds seemed to stab through my jacket as the dark grey sky bellowed a foul mood. The water echoed it revealing it's anger. Violently it pitched and rolled with waves that rose high to almost 6 feet. Stones swept up the from bottom were thrown out, hurled sharply at me. They warned of shear power and might of the water. The water grabbed forward with each wave trying to reach me, roaring in agony with each missed attempt.