It came out of the blue, a slight breeze at first —
Surely nothing to cause any worry.
Then thunder rolled; it was such a cloudburst!
Menacing, and not in a great hurry.

Long craved, perhaps: Absolute dominion!
A purlieu over which to run roughshod.
But 'truth' unmasked as haughty opinion,
The Squall revealed a brusque, humorless clod.

Despite claims to be caring and witty,
What occurred was blustering about.
Some thought it called for patience and pity;
Ah, but why pity a blathering lout?

At last the maelstrom packed up and moved on.
After all the harm done, we’re glad that it’s gone.

* * *
© 2011 by M.P. Witwer • All rights reserved
Cover Photo: ‘After the Squall,’ © 2013 by M.P. Witwer