ELECTRIC STORM

Corn fields heated like boiling glass

Steamy ammonia and ripening corn

Dogs lie prostrate and panting

In the shade of a dying tree

The rain won't come when you want it

The sun only comes when you hate it need it dread it

But that changes today

And here it changes

Here comes the rain

Thunder cants the poetry of sorrow

Rain on tin roof

Sobs the inarticulate language of despair

Light in farmhouse coming on

In weary counterpoint

To a sky turned the color of night

Thunderhead glowers over the field

Cattle lowing piteously before it

Supplicant savages beseeching

An angry, capricious god

Gloomy summer rain more depressing

Than a flint colored winter day

When the earth is like iron

And all you want

Is to go inside