Storm

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.