About a Storm

The clouds have lost their shape, blended even,

Their grey blanket dusk-like over the day,

Untimely calling out to the dark

Before the keepers of light could have their say.

Sweat that streamed freely down in the blazing sun,

Bead up now where they form on my skin,

Sit on through your oppressive prelude

Waiting to be washed away when you come in.

The birds fly back silently to their nests,

Tiptoeing through the still afternoon air,

For they too perhaps sense your arrival,

Caught up in the foreboding that I share.

The wind comes first behind a wall of dust,

Screaming in through, stripping trees of their leaves,

Followed by sheets of water born in clouds,

The rain pattering down beyond my eaves.

We shutter ourselves up in the house

While you swirl around it whistling our names,

Till the knocking on the windows die down,

After they have stopped trembling in their frames.

You leave back broken branches by my way,

Torn apart from where they used to dangle,

The rain-washed breeze blowing past them bring

The scent of wet earth rising through their tangle.