Poetry: Summer Storm

a sky so blue and crystal clear produces faulty ease
the tranquil buzzing of the bees, a chorus all serene
between the drifting flowers, grass rustling in the breeze
you barely hear the rumbles, and know not what they mean

but like the changing of the tides, the blueness fades to black
the rumbles morph to thunderous beats of horses on the track
the bees goes into hiding, blooms solemn at their lack
and the front of darkness rides the gales that beat the noon heat back

like gods of ages lost to time, these gales unfurl their capes
and down upon the long-parched earth falls rain you can’t escape
it floods the ditches and the ponds, turns cornfields into lakes
and across the hills and rivers, the whole earth it reshapes

beneath a canopy of tin, you listen to the drums of war
watch the flares of fighting beasts that fly among the clouds afar
but just like that, the rain subsides; the thunderheads have passed
this summer storm has marched along—but it will not be the last