Thunder Gnomes

They play thunder at night.

July ends on a lightning show,

the crickets harmonize;

storm flashbulbs set the night aglow--
the thunder gnomes arise.

They move about in heavy cloud
to thump and bump the night;
they bang their drums behind a shroud
defined by flashing light.

They sleep all day behind the sun--
a heightened multitude;
but now percussion is such fun...
they snare the quietude.

Off to the south there is a flash,
then sure enough a boom;
a thunder gnome has made a dash
into a crowded room.

Between the walls of east and west
on hardwood in the sky,
rambunctious gnomes are on a quest
to see the silence die.

And Mr. Sun worked hard all day
to fill his water bed;
yet naughty gnomes in mass said, “Nay;”
“We like the rain instead.”

As August takes July’s glad hand
to summer music dawn,
there’ll always be a weathered band:
the thunder gnomes play on.