All summer long, the young, the lonely wait
Events, delights. Summer builds
High its great thunder over a rainy gate,
Lightning emphatic pours the air with change,
Boxes the country room with swift, electric range.
Then deluge. But the lonely face
Looking behind the wavy pane lit once
Gets an evasive answer.
And the tumult ends.
Over Canada, far off, the serial climax forms.
Far off the canvas of the thunders crumple.
A mocking voice in every quarter says:
“It’s silly. It’s so simple.
Watch weather, frustrate sister,
Nothing ever happens here but storms.”
Coming and Going of Storms
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