In A Thunderstorm Poem by Gert Strydom

In a thunderstorm with huge drops falling,
with thunderbolts lashing around me
I hurry to my car
near the entrance of the Spar.

Newspapers do blow around in the wind
and an old grey-headed man, a woman and small white dog
is walled off
in a small shack made from boxes,

they are busy calling a bedraggled child
and on the long porch of the shop
a black cat sneaks past,
where it's soaking wet and cold.

At the traffic light a beggar bends forward
and somewhere the city has lost its soul.