3/9/16 Storm imagery
The storm brews above our heads,
purple clouds, the sky's own bruises,
threaten aural violence and flashing disruption.
The wind is picking up,
throwing anything it can catch;
the invisible hands of a giant toddler
turning the world's lounge room upside down.
Then the bucket is overturned
and its contents pour out,
the windows glaze with the crystal soup
of an inconsolably crying sky.