Cotton puff balls swirl about,
Their whiteness turning to grey.
Oh my dear you had better watch out,
I think it soon will rain.
As I speak, the moving clouds,
Collide and crash together.
The noise that this loud thunder makes
Is like buses smashing together.
The rain drops start as little splots
That fall as a baby's tears,
But very soon the tears become
Torrential - flowing toward the drain.
People run with makeshift brollies.
Their heads they have covered,
With any thing that they can find
That might withstand this weather.
As God looks down from heaven above,
I'm sure that he must chuckle,
To see the people that he loves,
Scuttling like ants for cover.