Deluge Drear
Cushions of mauve piled high
above a lingering letterbox of light,
slow-shifting shades of darker hue
descend in deepening black upon the sea.
And all around is silent, still,
no birds, no wave-sounds, dried-up winter leaves
now cling as crisp and lifeless remnants
on the trees, mute in breathless air.
The purple backdrop drains to grey,
The fading light retreats and finally gives way.
A slight and almost-friendly breeze
ripples the water, rustles the trees.
A faint and muffled rumbling in the gloom,
a first few raindrops, innocently sparse,
blown in upon a quickening wind.
The clouds converge, their prelude done.
Across the bay is launched a sudden storm,
A tempest from the wild Atlantic borne.
The huddled shoreline dwellings disappear,
engulfed within a winter deluge drear.
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