Thunderstorm

THUNDERSTORM Thick oppressive sultriness all day Then cool breezes, a cloud signals The sails of a fighting Armada, With massed grey galleons Swelling with threatening guns - The flashing of their watery cannon beats Their terrifying cacophony In the cross-trees and shivering sheets - Hurled balls of rain, rain, rain So thick the air is opaque; Rain without end, Noah’s rain, Making deck drain and scupper shake Riddling the sea with bullet-hole spray. Now empty cannon fall still and silent: The Armada has drifted away. The air is dry and clear and spent.