After The Storm Poem by Bryan Taplits

The clouds were angry (as sometimes they are)
They boiled with wrath and with rage,
No longer were they fluffy or sinless-
But had turned to its opposite fevered page.
But soon the storm abated
And thru-off the bawling insistent rain-
around that time I no longer slept,
Yes, it was time to switch off my alarm clock
and once more begin my diurnal assault.
So I swiftly returned to the present:
For it was time for me again to get up.