Sonic ridiculous. Brat, no reason.
Loud thunder without rain
is just pissy
not angry freak storm,
and the whirring bugs below
do not cringe as I
in no bolt seen but its
violet Polaroid flash whole eye,
Regal against your insipid drysky rolly rant
In their entomollifying
pesky rebellion chant
until you punish with soft lullaby
of misty rain before storm.
Like the kiss better 'I'm sorry'
child's soft trusting bruised-skin arm
supposedly never again.
Ah! Now, it pours righteous.