Someone once called it
Tupperware weather
Wherein
The island
Seems To have been covered
By a gigantic inverted
Semi opaque
Plastic food bowl
It's like that today
Grey Sunday swirl
No rain yet
But it's coming
The leave's rustle
Becomes a humming
The bird's chirps
Take on
A concerned tone
From bright enquiries
To scared entreaties
Periods of calm
So fleeting
As vortices
Darkly form beneath
The dome.