A gathering storm pools over the city
Melding the drowsy blues and grays
The tranquil scene soon joins me in misery
Aloof on a balcony while cold city sleeps
The clouds form an endless shield of gray
Roaming in sync like soldiers to battle
Urges of thunder disturb my trance
Transmitting their deep, subliminal tongues
A chorus of rain then rattles to life
Descending a maze of awnings and gutters
Ribbons of waterfall spill from the roof,
Distorting an image of huddling birds
A church’s steeple exposed by lightning
Its drooping bell immune to the wind
Black garden gates aglow with wetness
Aging paint flaking off in the clamor
Streetlights stretched across glistening pavement
Midst an infracted mirror of puddles
Raindrops scratch at draped window clones
Massaging the temples of a world-worn mass
Back in my room the symphony muffled
Thunder runs through a vaulted ceiling
Pale blue light fills a darkened bedroom
As shadows of water stream down the walls
These rainstorms act as mobile seasons
Passing dimensions that alter the mood
Held in trophy these opulent glimpses
For painter and poet a window of rebirth
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You capture the moods of your writings with ease and make them clear.
Sandra
"...Thunder runs through a vaulted ceiling..."
Well done, and welcome to AD! You're among friends.
Karla.