The thunder rumbles
Low and deep in the
Dark heavy clouds
As they hug the horizon.
The lightning forks
And streaks angrily
Across the stygian depths of sky.
Slowly, dreamily
The first drops begin to fall.
The large drops making craters
In the dusty earth.
The rain comes on
With all its eminent authority.
With unmitigated fury
The wall of rain
Bursts into his camp.
Sizzling, smoking and Popping,
The fire protests weakly.
Pulling his hat down
He packs the last of his gear
Onto his ol’ pony.
With the practiced ease
Lent him by many
Years astride a horse,
He throws a leg over
The weather beaten, care worn saddle.
Ducking his head,
The big gelding is turned
Into the oncoming storm.
Rain or shine,
He’s got to ride.
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