The sky had grumbled off and on
we should have known
that something was afoot
even before the dark cloud spat
its spume flakes of bright light,
tasering the trees before our eyes.
The wind intensified
white balls bounced waist high from the grass,
the roof of the conservatory broke forth
with automatic weaponfire. Meanwhile
the children on the square
who had at first shrieked out excitedly
now shrieked quite differently,
each wet and in distress
at his stung hands and face.
And then the cold began to penetrate,
blossom was knocked from flowering trees
and petals from the tulips in their beds.
But at the end
was nothing left of spectacle
except a deeper and more distant grumbling.