At the end of the day,

a pinkish red Sunset breaches clouds,

bouncing colours like it’s whispering “goodnight”.

Thunder rumbles.

Lightening crawls.

No water falling,

even though the sky looks like it’s about to fall.

Through the hazy fray

of unchained grey,

Shadows silently form.

This sudden blossom

has announced a storm.

Beauty within,

no final curtain,

this performance is yet to be called.

Through the sky,

gathering rumbles,

shout cracks which follow,

jagged fingers of light.

as they pierce the horizon,

and we anticipate rainfall.

This dry will soon crack,

wrinkled land will reform, and

signs of life shall be recalled.

©RL2014