Like a well-executed bomber raid,
The clouds take up formation.
Emptying their sudden barrage,
On unsuspecting sun worshippers.
Who panicked scatter for cover,
Desperately seeking any shelter.
Condemning sausages to a fiery demise,
Blackening on discarded barbeques.
All hopes of a break in the raid,
Vanish when the last sunbeam fades.
As a second wave of clouds soar in,
To continue this stormy onslaught.
Unconcerned cats curl under shrubs,
Ignoring the torrential torrent.
Paws trembling as they dream,
Eagerly awaiting the early bird.