Wrath

Ominous overcast sky

Looming behemoth over

Blue green choppy seas

How did you stumble across this

Holy Hell?

You are afraid of that cloud 

And magically, beneath your feet

A raft made of sticks and

In your hands a wooden oar appears

That can only mean it must be sensible

To paddle desperately

For safer waters

Waters made of a substance alien to you

Permeable and wet