Purple Sky, Broken Sound

The sky went purple, like a fist,

a color hard to name or list.

Then rain, not drops, but thrown in sheets,

drumming hard on pavement streets.

A light went out, then flickered on,

a brief, uncertain, hopeful dawn.

And then the crack, a bone-deep sound,

that made the very house turn round.

My dog barked once, a startled yelp,

a tiny, useless, panicked help.

It rattled windows, shook the pane.

Just endless water, endless pain

from bruised dark clouds, so thick and low.

Nothing to do but watch it go.