One Cloud Hanging Poem by Jack Galmitz

Like a prop a foreboding cloud
took aim at the bar on the outskirts of town.
It hung above it as if there was something personal going
on. The town folk who had gathered
noticed squiggly lightning
flashes inside the cloud. It was eerie
enough for them to whisper the one word that brings
fear into the hearts of men and woman everywhere:
judgement. That's right, judgement. The men inside
didn't care. They were regulars. Took their stools early
and left late. Red eyed and scraggly, the only sunlight
they saw came when the bar doors swung open.
Had the cloud been sent to take them back to their true home?
That's what some said. And it just might have been possible.
What other explanation could there be?
There was a drought in those parts going on for years.
No one could remember the last time they saw a thundercloud.
Yup, it just might be a sign the huddled crowd agreed.
Then they dispersed and made their several ways home,
each thankful that the cloud didn't hang over their head.