I would like to dedicate this poem to my city, Cyrene. It is an
"acrostic poem", meaning that if you read the first letter of each line
it will spell the title of the poem.

C Y R E N E R A I N S T O R M S

Crickets halt their midnight serenade in the Imperial Gardens as
Youthful Atavian feathers ruffle in anticipation. Inevitably, the
Rain is coming. Well-fed blackbirds gather together at the
Edge of the citrus groves. Rats race from the street to the sewer,
Needing shelter from the weather. The air is charged with the
Elements, a powerful weapon against dry ground. Hail, like
Rocks, pelt a passing Mhun as he ducks beneath the awning of
Amadeo's. The smell of fresh-baked moussaka tempts the
Itinerant explorer and he buys enough food to last through the
Night. In a flash, lightning illuminates the darkness, creating
Silhouettes that loom against shops around the Artisan Plaza.
The knights, always alert, patrol the streets ready for any
Obstinate enemies who might dare trespass. Up and down along
Ruminic Street, from Centre crossing to the Cyrenian Canal,
Mountain Archers march along. Finally, the harsh winds are
Still and the storm passes as the Clock Tower chimes a new day.

Penned by my hand on the 18th of Glacian, in the year 541 AF.