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Thunderstorm

by James Walton (follow)
In ancient ozonal furies
Iíll be hanging around
long after Iím gone
interred or spread
steal Peterís keys or Old Nickís dement
those electric sheets
weíll kick off amidst the noise
of billowing nights or days
when the ever baptismal rain
cries out of overflowing fonts
lightning theatre shines hills
thundering initiate stage design
our agora knows the second call
is only a curtain of restraint
growling for release from somewhere

Photo courtesy of Pauline's Photography
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