Now here goes the first rain and wind storm of September…

And it came like a quarel
Throwing punches
Holding each others throat and
Blowing thru their fury noses

On their path, they throw fine sand around
Pulling the weak rooftops about
Now the clouds blacken with each provocation
The rain beat down like pellets
Raising a unique smell of dry clay
The wind stayed for a while
Rehearsing or renewing her strength
Or has she lost the battle yet?