The Storm Poem by Kevin Scanlon

The fickle clouds are restive again after days of quietly drifting
In fair weather and under keen convective duress begin shifting
Rapidly into a towering and glowering aspect of an expanding riot
Across the sky against the clear blue order of peace and quiet.

Gentle breezes yield to rude gusts as the atmosphere binges
Soon the bestial wind pounds on the door as if to rip it off its hinges
Blasting the rain sideways against windows rattled by thunder
To claim the interior for its territory it must tear it asunder.

Lightning strikes like a thousand lashes upon the earth and sky
Inside savage clouds once gentle droplets merge and solidify
And make their descent in an artillery barrage of bouncing hail
The crisis is here, hopefully the brutalized sky will prevail.