Storms

The sky’s quiet shade o’ paled blue,
Cauliflower’d clouds drift into view.
Morning’s softly blown off the shore
Till it’s fully gone and blue no more.

Angrier shades of darkened grey,
Swirling, twirling, rising half a day,
Lifting moisture with salt and dust
Till all the updrafts in violence bust.
 
Flashing brilliance and booming sound,
Hidden kids in mum’s skirts found.
Whistling winds and pounding rain,
Icy lumps drop, hop and entertain.

Cascading torrents pouring from the sky,
Masking views; a mere outline to the eye.
A deafening crescendo of huge rain drops,
Until in surprised silence all suddenly stops.

So quickly passed, the unquiet is softly atoned,
As greener textures are in a softer air attained.
Amid humidity, perspiring hints in a calmer face,
All crown with ease a fresher and gentler place.