moonish and whathow

 we dandelions
         we heard the storm coming

those first threads of rain
                 were real slow
             reminded us of caterpillars munching
                          wet little noises and 
                              the squeamishness of  leaves  

but then bongo practise started
              like the blundering of snails       
                 all boo and brow and beaters
                          foot stamp and phooey
                       
                       it was waking up the river
             she's been restless as tumbledown lately
                                always spitting and spuming
                           
                           but that’s okay
                
                               you and I, we just nodded
                                 moonish and whathow 

because

                 when the grey skein went
                                      we knew we'd see
                           that good old frangipani sky
                                           
                       how did those pretty little things
                                       get up there anyway?