The wind wafts busily through the stays
The occasional gust—a frenzied rattle in the rigging—
Coinciding with the darkening water
Round the white hull

Darkness shrouds the windward hills
The sky above though blue
Is ,with the quickening breeze
Destined not to last
The gusts come strongly now
Feel their anger
The whine and slat grows louder
Clouds, where once was blue, are grey
And threatening

White water breaks the green tranquillity in the placid bay
Rain, like heavy haze, obscures
The not so distant outline of the shore
And seems to hover,
As if drawing strength
Momentum
For its inexorable run to where we sit.

A moment’s lull
The calm
And hear the hiss
Of heavy drops a scant few yards away.
Louder, closer, gust
The torrent hits
Initial downpour, pause,
And then the deluge.
Vicious sound, it pummels,
Seeks to inundate
All
In its elemental fury.
Inside, the heat  and damp oppressive.
Enclosed in grey walls of water. Sweat
Mingling with the condensation. Stifling
And claustrophobic.
Then all at once the noisy dampness
Recedes.
We breathe again the fresh-washed air
And shiver from the drips
And search the horizon for the next onslaught.