Leny Roovers

Thor's fist....Curtal Sonnet

Across now dark grey skies Thor throws his bolts.
Bright yellow flares, a pause, then thunder roars
in bellowing refrains as rain pelts town.
Black clouds are darting skittish like young colts,
sharp lightning's shredding heaven's troubled shores.
Thor shakes his fist and looks down with a frown,
he's angry with those people down below;
they don't care for the Earth, but threat with wars.
Cold rain lashes the land, about to drown,
until Thor's satisfied and stops the flow.
Beds down.



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