A sorrowful tide
Sweeps away the leaning trees
And scatters the sagging fences
The world beneath is flooded
As the clouds weep their loss
And creeping creatures scurry to
Break the surface least they lose their air.
The fury of forty days and forty nights
Is unleashed in a mere forty seconds.
And as soon as it has begun,
It ends.
The tide slides back into the sea,
The soaking sheets return to the clouds,
The worms breathe a sigh of relief.
It is over for now.