The weather was unsettled yesterday –
clouds massed as troops for battle.
Today, I watched the sunrise 100 kms
east,
a narrow horizontal wound,
slashed in the flank
of the black stallion
that filled the sky.
Traffic grinds to a crawl,
and flash floods isolate
the poorer neighbourhoods.
The weatherman warned us
with time-lapse radar.
His messages were brief.
Did Fate’s finger
write in those synoptic isobars
of what’s to come?
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