The quiet before a storm is doing my head in

Every day this week I've caught myself stopping mid-task waiting for it — that hush when the air goes gray and even the swallows quit. I've stood in it a thousand times on the water and never once been able to say what it actually is. Pressure? The river holding its breath? Whatever you call it, I keep wanting to name it like it's a fish I almost landed. Maybe some things aren't meant to be caught, just to stand in.