The wind hurls the Friday night traffic roar at us,
Buffeting the tall gumtrees
Willing but unable to get free
Whipping fiercely the bushes
Digging their roots in the parched soil
The mighty storm front is above us
Rolling and hurling heavy purple clouds
The change is coming with thunder and lightning
Above the hills, light is fading,
Greyness is invading the world
The crows warn the fools that we are
To hurry up and turn back
To find shelter before it's too late
Battling against the whirling wind
Untouchable enemy surrounding us
The first drops hit us
Around our street corner
A few more steps and we are safe
The heavens open up and drop their evening ire
Who cares? Not us !
Lucette C. Bailliet ©
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