A white cloud
Appears on the once
Clear blue afternoon
sky
Like a careless
splodge of white
On the blue canvas of
an artist
It bubbles up
Then races across the
blue
Another appears bigger
this time
Then another and
another
And as they move
across the sky
They cast their
shadows across the land
Patches of light and
dark
Appear to move over
the landscape
Like a giant
kaleidoscope
One of the sunny
patches
Illuminates the
weeping cherry
Where the gold finches
sing
Then there is more
cloud than sky
The small white clouds
Have now bubbled up
and darkened
And from the lake the
Geese speak
To no one in
particular
Saying that a storm is
coming
In the distance the
mountains
Stand out starkly
Against the ever
darkening sky
The first sounds of
thunder
Roll around the valley
Sounding like a
distant train
Getting nearer and
louder
Silent lightning
streaks
Across the blackening
clouds
Then a thunder clap
Not to be mistaken for
a distant train
Large raindrops hit
the ground
Dappling the dry earth
Strumming on the roof
tops
And the tops of parked
cars
In a reassuring rhythm
And as the last dry
spot disappeared
The torrent began
Falling vertically
like monsoon rains
Lightning streaks
dazzled the eyes
And almost instant thunder
shook the house
The waters of the lake
Erupted like a pot
coming to the boil
And day was turned to
night
Slowly the rain eased
And the storm rolled
on
Blue coloured the
skies again
The Geese spoke again
from the lake
Gold finches sang once
more
And the air was filled
with the scent of wet pines
