The soaring temperature, is followed by the storm
It feels like some New Orleans swamp
not a suburb in the UK

Fevers persist, maybe due to sickness
But maybe due to climate change

The storm is raging at 3am in more places than on my roof

The sun is out again, baking all the pavements
voodoo in the air
Invisible protests in the capital,
the weather is coming in biblical measurements these days
My fever comes with a twist of lime and sacrificial atonement

The storm is raging at 3am in more place than on my roof

Dazzled and confused by talking heads preaching peace for Syria by closing all our doors.

The air is very close, muggy they sometimes say,
feeling the static on my skin before the lightning strikes

The electricity, like angry thrashing eels, wrapping its natural menace around a tree, scaring cats.

Birds and cattle
startled, seeking shelter

The raven carks its warning, could this be the end?

The storm is raging at 3am in more places than on my roof

Sweet lady of the mist, disappearing into illusion, dancing naked in the memories of youth

Booming, magnificent and frightening
the thunder erupts,
the white clouds, once glowing ethereal mountains
conquered by sprites and unicorns, now an angry black rock face
meant not for mining or scaling,
just a barrier of the ages

It’s getting a little stifling, chewing feverfew can sometimes lift the gloom

It’s getting clearer not nearer, listen to the tune

In the boathouse scary stories, don’t always ring the truth
Perhaps you were joking, or deceiving,
would you accept the call

The clouds are gathering, they’ve got a song to sing

3am, didn’t mean to wake you
The storm is crowding in

©John de Gruyther 2014

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