I cower

I cower

Beneath the covers

When thunder sounds,

Most of us do,

I pull them right up

Over my head

Wet the bed

Shiver with fright

Bite my tongue

Choke back a scream

Pray to god

For deliverance,

All true believers

In the end.

It’s always the same

It’s the nature of things

It scares the children

Makes grown men cry

Although they will

Deny it

Counting the seconds

Between crash

And strike

The frequency

Is increasing

The time is getting shorter

The storm is getting closer

I find a place to hide

In a cupboard

Under the stairs

With the heavy coats

Wellington boots

And umbrellas

All of them are broken

I run to the basement

Choked by

Dust and clutter

Lost things

With sentimental value

Simple reminders

A plastic Christmas tree

Keeps me grounded

As the house shakes

The walls shudder

The rain

Falls in rods

As sharp as knives

Cutting through cotton

Shirts

Board shorts.

Young lovers

Sun kissing

Caught outside

Next to the river

Canoodling

Artlessly

The helter skelter

Of the run

Home

Soaked to the bone

A torpid sun

Extinguished

Drowned out

Spluttering for breath

Waiting for a break

In the weather

To re-impose

A languid vision

Of summer.

Before the next

Cataclysm

Opens the gate

To armageddon