The Trooper

The storm blew in from the West

and out through the veranda door

so quickly, a white knot of thunder

in the already black night

that I forgot about the oil lamp

that I was reading by on the terrace 

when all Hell broke loose , fat raindrops 

carpet bombing my peaceful evening.

Somehow it survived the rain and gusts,

burning wildly from side to side

never surrendering until the last drop of oil

was gone, empty in the now silent, wet darkness.