Storm

At least some comfort was expressed in
distant thunder; overhead the rumbles
stir discordancy as hollow sonic booms
that race across a greying firmament.
And then a flash which strikes with white
deceit and rips the ozone from the air.

It is no wonder why the power supply
has failed – there is an anarchy afoot
in ruthless acts of static fury one can
see as well as hear, there it strikes
actinically upon a solitary tower a
mere 400 yards away from here.

My safety would be feared were I naïve
to this display, the thunder in my ears
reserving energy replayed from times
of war; I am assured an enemy would
compliment my feelings rather more
than I would gladly give to be afraid.

The thunder rumbles distantly off out
to sea; the closure of the show begins
in dimming lights and voices awed
relaying words of comfort querying – 
In growing quiet I will begin resetting
clocks and timers for the night.
© 16 February 2010, I. D. Carswell