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
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