Stormy Night

The sun slides as do fingers on the smooth surface of satin below the horizon in silent surrender as surly clouds creep across the scarlet and purple sky from the south their mumbling and grumbling reverberating off the rooftops Tonight I will see no stars twinkling like a billion fireflies in jars Lightning resembling the forked tongues of serpents taste the air Bursts of bright white like the flashes of photographers’ cameras capturing a moment frozen forever in time illuminate the walls through the single window of my bedroom while I write wondering what the weather is like in London at this hour if you might be dreaming of a storm somewhere