The Storm’s Coming

The Storm’s Coming

Warm Sahara air billows its way from the south

Snaking a path through the thermals

Gently, insistently, nudging life on.

Crickets message the approaching storm

Grasses bristle, gasping for air.

The storm’s coming…

Timber shutters slap with annoyance. Thirsty. Dry.

The sensual coiling of the flagpole chain

Chinks rhythmically to the quickening

Heartbeat of the wind.

The storm’s coming…

I sit at the window watching clouds march closer

Like a cohort on patrol

No taking prisoners, no giving way.

What greater spectacle than the approaching storm!

That freeze-frame of energy

Between scenes; nature’s stagehands

Dismantling one view to sketch out the next

In glorious sensory pleasure. It’s here..!

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