Then summer said goodbye <br />to the station. Lifting its cap, <br />the thunder took souvenirs, <br />hundreds of shots on the fly. <br /> <br />The lilac went black. And that <br />instant, gathering whole armfuls <br />of lightning, the far clearing lit <br />the white station-master’s shack. <br /> <br />And when the whole roof ran <br />with a fierce torrent of malice, <br />and, like charcoal onto a sketch, <br />the rain crashed down on the fence, <br />consciousness started to flash, <br />here, it seems, flooding in play <br />even the corners of mind <br />where it’s always bright as day.<br /><br />Boris Pasternak<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/storm-momentary-forever/
