STORM SEASON

 

STORM SEASON …. Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBarkPoet  

 

The heavens opened once again – above were skies of green

and lowering clouds quite menacing, shot through with lightning’s sheen.

Low rumbles rolled around the hills, a deep menacing roar

that shook the earth and rattled plates, erupting from the maw

of the Storm God’s enraged visage – the son of Odin, Thor

 

 

The lashing winds and driving rain cut sharply like a knife

shredding the leaves and branches, unleashing endless strife.

Debris was flung with scant regard – strange missiles flying by -

a trampoline, a garden chair, a pigeon trying to fly

on wings rain soaked and sodden, beneath a leaden sky.

 

 

And Zeus, that old cloud gatherer was out strutting his stuff

he opened up the heavens though I think we’ve had enough.

The river crossing’s running deep, likewise the creek - her daughter,

the traffic’s gridlocked on the roads – they can’t advance – groundwater

has flooded paddocks either side – retreat blocked on each quarter.

 

 

At last, the Storm Gods disappear – retreating to the ether

and peace descends – or peace of sorts – upon the land beneath her.

The rip and roar of the chainsaw is heard from near and far,

the dreaded wail of sirens sound. Fire, ambo’s or police car?

And yet another storm shows up incoming on radar.