The cumulous arrive in train;
with thrusting breath that reeks of rain,
a roiling moody, leaden pall,
to shroud the world in shadow-fall.
Thunder grumbles; muted flashes,
rain with sting and wind with lashes,
a blanket, nebulous, intends,
for blue to meet ignoble ends.
When all seems lost and Sol's retreated,
in evidence he's not defeated;
a shaft of sunlight tells the wary,
the veil's only temporary.