Camping in a basin near Lake Coleridge and surrounded by mountains, we are treated to ferocious weather throughout the night.

What a night

Lying in a tent
I listen
To the sharp sound
Of raindrops
Changing to sheets
Of water
Bucketing down

I touch
The fabric above
And around me:
Seems to be
Holding out

An occasional flash
And rumble
Becomes a five-hour
Light and sound
Spectacle

Thunder with
Multiple sound effects
In all directions
Splitting
Going two ways
At once
Rumbling one way
Echoing off mountain tops
Rolling back
The other way
Through valleys
Around and back again
The ground shuddering
At times

Lightning
The sleeping bag
Covering closed eyes
Offers no protection

Fascinated
And acutely aware
Of our fragility
Amongst the immense
Power
Being unleashed
Around us tiny figures
In our little tents

I count the seconds
Between light
And sound
It comes closer and closer
Over the hours
Stopping at 4 kilometers
Whew

Cows lowing
On the hillsides
Movements and sounds
Next door
A creaking sleeping mat
The swish of a zip
Opening and closing
The only evidence
Of wakefulness
In this wild night

Finally the thunderstorm spent
I doze off
Only to be woken again
With a start
By loud crackling
Flapping  and shaking
Of my tent
In a gale force storm
Tent poles moving as much
As the guy ropes
Will give

No more rain
Thankfully
But will the ground
Hold on to my little pegs?
Eventually the need to
Check and adjust
The guy ropes
Becomes greater than
My anxiety
To brave the elements

When the storm abates
At last
There’s message
In the colour of the sky:
It’s time
To get up