Fleet Summer Storm
We sense a distant throb like drums of war,
Hear whistles, shrill, precede firm lifeguards’ cry,
“Get out!” as drops, way off, slant down and pour;
Look there!—chill, sudden gust, umbrellas fly,
Tense mothers rush, all eyes upon gray sky,
To youngsters trembling, safe from surf and sea;
Harsh cracking whip, white klieg bulb flashes high,
Then, snug and wrapped, with mothers, children flee,
Find autos’ shelter, beach deprived hot summer glee.
July 3, 2018
Summer Rain Storm (2) Spencerian Stanza Poetry Contest
Dale Gregory Cozart, Sponsor
Copyright © David Bose | Year Posted 2018
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