H1999–הֲמֻלָּה–ha.mul.lah

`An olive, green, fair, of goodly fruit,' Hath Jehovah called thy name, At the noise of a great tumult He hath kindled fire against it, And broken have been its thin branches.

הֲמוּלָּ֣ה ha.mu.Lah “a rainstorm”

And I hear the noise of their wings, as the noise of many waters, as the noise of the Mighty One, in their going -- the noise of tumult, as the noise of a camp, in their standing they let fall their wings.

הֲמֻלָּ֖ה ha.mu.Lah “a rainstorm”