Still the grey gets through

Oh, thunder, you said
In that innocuous mid-distance
Where meaning both escapes and evokes

The lights in tall buildings
Play dominoes 
Until almost everyone has left

Rain makes static
Too lacklustre for lightning scars
Just the nondescript
Evening noise
Of cutlery and creaking doors
Too late not to notice
In the paint-chipped plateau
Beyond wet-lipped, quick-torn fingernails
Half open is not the same
As half closed

Though the window jambed 

The grey gets through