The Storm

The Storm Black rimmed skies, Clouds with no lining of silver, Gusts of wind, Trees protesting, With a dance on the horizon. Rumblings of thunder, Flashes of lightening, Animals and humans, Caught up in the melee, While scurrying to the shelter, Of their de-roofed abodes. A deluge of wetness, Spattering on the pavement, Cascading into drains, Loaded with the debris, From a disenchanted metropolis. Steering-happy drivers, Punishing crying jalopies, Meandering through the gridlock, They almost knock down children, Glorying in the rain. But the end, was also the beginning, The damage done: great! Before any got home, The sun was up smiling, In adulation for the rain, For a job well done.