Ode To A Storm Poem by Tim Cronin

Those clouds below the storm, that only
Show themselves in lightning strike, wonder
If they even rain. They ought weep, lonely,
Haunting just out of reach, fleeing thunder

Grumble, sky, grumble with all
Your Gulf Stream can muster, from Cancer
To Capircorn, bellow and let fall

Let fall dam and telephone wire, boughs
Bent up, pointing praises to the bringer
Of electric terror, that bows to no foes
Who's sovereign power needs no other singer

Lawn flamingos and trash lids, your wild dancers
Let the power sputter and stall
And give rolling rumbles as my only answers