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.
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