Gentle rainfall gives way to torrents.
The pounding gallons slicing
West to East, flat and hacking.
Trees collapse and homes fall black.

The lone wanderers hide shivering
In nook and cranny before shop doors.
Shoes soaked through, socks tacking
Cigarettes drowned in river.

Standing behind fine mesh screen,
Eavestrough drooling on cracked stone,
We only watch wide-eyed and stare
At brown sky and clouded white hills.

The rooftops flicker and glow,
A rolling roaring beast lets loose,
They Ooh and Aah and laugh
And count the miles away.

Through all this flash, filth and noise
I can only imagine how green
The bent and withering old trees
Shall shine in the clear warm sun.