The canvas up above
was dull and murky grey-
small faces at the window
wishing it away.
And then the rumbling started-
deep low-pitched sounds from far-
air crashing and expanding
as lightning strikes each bar.
Flash!
Crash!
Rumble!
Roar!
BOOM!
The operatic din-
earthshaking rhythms sent
from the highest of the heavens
to where we huddled, bent.
We peeked from under sheets-
the walls of forts we’d made-
to see if it was over-
so we could go and play.
The patter of the rain
on windows clear with glass
meant just a little longer
‘til we could run on grass.
And as we watched it dripping-
drops tapping out a dance-
we saw the clouds move slightly
and gazed, caught in a trance.
S t r e t c h i n g out before us-
colours rich as gold-
was a perfect arc of rainbow
smiling warmly through the cold.
