Clouds,
Like rags,
Fly off rounded, rolling mountains,
Billowing like smoke,
Billowing like distant smoke
Covering the distant green
With white sheets of rain.
And lightning flashes,
Thunder roars and crashes,
Shaking the ground.
And Shaka, black-maned lion,
Returns the roar,
Challenging the heavens
As they pour and pound welcome water
Into dry and needy earth.
Copyright Reserved
Isabel Bradley©
8 January 2025