On Nights Like This

Half of the world is asleep And black bellied clouds rest upon the mountains Sending rain to punish my roof While heaven complains against the ebony night Shadows dark as evil sprawl beneath the trees And lovers laugh, dodging puddles as they run Gutters gush, gargling the torrent As half of the world is asleep on rumpled beds While creatures watch from boughs and burrows The sycamore slumps beneath the storm Where a hawk is stranded on a sheltered limb And streams and brooks boast beyond their bends The scene is solemn beyond the window Where rivulets slide, blending into each other like lovers A glaring bolt slides over the peaks, through the clouds And the clouds complain about it a moment after As half of the world is asleep, but not me I have too much forgetting to do about nights like this