Storms

The sky’s quiet shade o’ paled blue,
Cauliflower’d clouds drift into view.
Morning’s softly blown off the shore
Till it’s fully gone and blue no more.

Angrier shades of darkened grey,
Swirling, twirling, rising half a day,
Lifting moisture with salt and dust
Till all the updrafts in violence bust.

Flashing brilliance and booming sound,
Hidden kids in mum’s skirts found.
Whistling winds and pounding rain,
Icy lumps drop, hop and entertain.

Cascading torrents pouring from the sky,
Masking views; a mere outline to the eye.
A deafening crescendo of huge rain drops,
Until in surprised silence all suddenly stops.

So quickly passed, the unquiet is softly atoned,
As greener textures are in a softer air attained.
Amid humidity, perspiring hints in a calmer face,
All crown with ease a fresher and gentler place.

Holly’s Bubbles

What is that? asked her expectant face.

What’s he doing? Her look all enchanted.

A long fat balloon, it’s growing into space!

Now a round balloon; her eyes squinted.

I will catch it and bat it all over the place!

 

The granddaughter leapt and darted,

Shrieked, mumbled and giggled away,

As all over the yard the bubble drifted.

This way and that the bubble did stray,

Until upon a tree it magically deflated.

 

It covered her gently in a cool watery mist,

She shivered a bit, in a fine and soft shower,

Turned to GD with a face imploringly blessed.

So he sent a bubble with a track much lower.

Causing it bust, made her laugh in gleeful jest.

 

He sent bubbles all shapes and sizes,

For her to chase about and to burst,

Till they tired of the novel surprises,

And were both increasingly cursed,

By their common sleeping exercises.