apocalypse chuckling

heard the thunder sneak
over the steep mountain
in the rustling night clear its throat
cold muttered gargle of the old man
this temper tantrum wind
kicking and screaming on the floor
frustrated prelude of an empty rain
it will remain arid arabian
the sky moisture is in mourning
reaching for burial in clouds
and whip of sunrays
there is nothing but the
ragged current depression
these false storms
do little more than
blow the dirt roads away
huffing and threatening weak leafs
downing electrical lines
and generally agitating
the posturing of a grand madam
nostrils flaring
i am waiting for that torrent
on the down side of the moon
apocalypse chuckling
in the background
i wait for something horrible
it jumps and wriggles
in my taunt muscles
the trouble maker
sinister and opportunist
it lies fathoms
patient grumbling rising
a pocket of bad air
erupting belch
destiny skirting past
on the face of gray cumulous