Lightning races its way
across the sky’s canvas,
dodging and ducking
like a tsotsi accelerating from the cops.
Traffic snakes and winds through
the city’s tight passages,
churning and bustling
like commuters in a taxi rank.
Rain and hail pummel
against a sea of roofs,
stinging and bouncing
like pebbles swung from a slingshot.
Faces sweat and shine
under the clouds' theatre,
like helium balloons
pulled along on strings.
Clouds threaten damage
from purple-black bruises,
rolling and steaming
like a pissed-off angry mama.
Jozi’s sky-line flickers
behind the storm’s drama,
dancing and jiving
like the dizzy lights of jazz.
