In July and August, here on the high desert, came the thunderstorms. The mornings begin clear and dazzling bright, the sky as blue as the Virgin's cloak, unflawed by a trace of cloud. By now, though, the clouds are beginning to form over the distant mountains, coming it seems out, of nowhere, out of nothing, a special creation. They merge and multiply, piling up like whipped cream, like mashed potatoes, like seafoam, building upon one another into a second mountain range greater in size than the earthly range below. The massive forms jostle and grate, and the sound of thunder is heard on the sun-drenched land. More clouds emerge from empty sky, anvil-headed giants with glints of lightning in their depths. An armada forms, advances, floating on a plane of air that makes it appear, from below, as a fleet of ships must appear to the fishes of the sea.

Q. Underline a sentence which appeals to the reader's sense of hearing.