The city lights flash red, white and amber.
As circuit boards beat out the Samba.
In the neon hours, alone as I tread.
With thunder and lightning, electrical dread.

The streams of rainfall rush to the drain.
Making forked signatures in a night sky’s brain.
Rolling and rumbling from a firmament speak.
The yellowed and zigzagged, frenzied clouds leak.

I hear splintering timbers from a broken bow.
It’s celestial torture when the angels row.
Violent! Sudden! Crackling above!
Tumultuous sounds from the Devil’s glove.

It’s a besotted night from God’s own creation.
With amber pools decked in stormy vexation.
The city lights bursting asunder.
As I spend neon hours with the voice of thunder.