A friend made a request for me to write a poem about the rain some weeks ago. It was at a time when we were having a lot of thunder storms. This poem was the result.
Rain clouds scurrying across the sky,
turbulent in their shades of grey,
a few huge raindrops plop from on high
there will soon be more on the way.
The wind starts to blow, now it’s gusting,
trees bending in articulate ways.
A flash of lightning then thunder rumbling,
here come the downpour ricochets.
The sound of the pounding rain is deafening,
nature making her presence known.
Although I find the smell of the rain refreshing,
pretty soon I’ll be soaked to the bone.
Gutters overflowing and puddles everywhere,
the rain continues gushing all around,
I’m having a power shower in the open air
with not a bar of soap to be found.
Suddenly, silence; it has stopped, abated,
all is quiet and the sun sheds it’s light,
the air is now clean and fresh, untainted,
everything washed, colours bright. ©