Storm in the Black Forest

Now it is almost night, from the bronzey soft sky

jugfull after jugfull of pure white liquid fire, bright white

tipples over and spills down,

and is gone

and gold-bronze flutters bent through the thick upper air



And as the electric liquid pours out, sometimes

a still brighter white snake wriggles among it, spilled

and tumbling wriggling down the sky:

and then the heavens cackle with unicorn sounds.



And the rain won't come, the rain refuses to come!



This is the electricity that man is supposed to have mastered

chained,subjugated to his use!

supposed to!