Thursday, 1 July 2004

Late storm

There was one day when the storm held off until late;
The clouds gathered and grew,
Swelling, like a dull ache
That could not quite break through,
Until, when the evening came, we could see it was very nearly upon us.

Blackness drew in blackness, swallowing
Everything. Something
Almighty on the brink.

We ran ahead to find a place for the tents.

At five thousand feet vast distended globes of water
Began their precipitate descent. Fifteen seconds,
We reckoned
We had. Kit off, slung-flung
And as it came, the rain, we three danced
In a green-grass bowl between two small hills
A sodden ballet of poles, pegs and lines; leaping, splashing, sploshing
A flipping, flapping, flopping
Festival of tits and cocks and balls, illuminated intermittently
By the freeze-frame flashes of the lightning
As the late storm erupted, emptying itself upon us.

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