Coming Down Like

Thunder calls to thunder, sometimes

This salt-stained and wine-dark storm in stuttering motion
Quickens at the warning of rolling lead-grey shifting 

To swirling absinthe halflight
The elms outside trembling and swaying 

Into one another like lovers
As the hail rips through
We watch from behind guttering candles

Shivering glass

One eye on the stairs to the boiler room
One eye on the sky