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The Storm

I sit and I watch in absolute awe as a thing of beauty unfolds
the power of the storm is entrancing
sour yet sweet as I’m caught by the dancing
and prancing of trees, shadows and seas of rain
on a dark window pane, it keeps glancing,
off into the street where wave upon wave
together they meet and so strangely behave,
swirling and twirling the spray now is giving
the sense it’s alive, like a beehive it’s living,
caught by the wind, it takes up the dance,
and if by a chance a poor soul should glance
at the breathtaking sight the storm makes in the night
they cannot stop watching, try as they might
the storm is to much, it’s power far reaching
beyond the trees and street, it’s now breaching
our minds, and we cannot stop we are helpless to fight
so we sit down and watch and we take in the sight...

...Lightning strikes, and the trance is broken
but out out of the night a new fright has awoken
proudly and loudly, the beast sends it's cry
rumbling and tumbling throughout the night sky
as if in response to the lightning that hit
and now once again so powerless I sit
the world is alight in a hair raising fight
as thunder and lightning compete in the night
the darkness shatters, in a moment I see
every detail of the world unfurled before me
and then thunder clatters, and all that now matters
is the darkness, everywhere, flawlessly complete
Unthinkably light, then the darkness of night
the storm put’s on an incredible feat
the light imprints all the world on my eyes
the edge of each leaf and raindrop in the sky
then the vivid image is blanketed in dark
and there is less than nothing, a contrast so stark
the effect is enthralling, and ever I’m stalling
to see one more second, one more droplet falling
I would stay here forever till night turned to dawn
and with a final finale the storm would move on.






Some may cower at the might of the storm that is storming
fearing its power when dark clouds start forming
the wrath of the storm and the raindrops are swarming
but I know much better, it’s simply performing.
The wind and each raindrop all act in the play
the thunder and lightning and trees as the sway
Its all just an act to gain some attention
the storm simply longs for an honorable mention
in the ten o’clock news, it rages and stews
just to receive all the credit it feels that it’s due
it makes quite a show, and my front lawn’s it’s stage
but through all this I know the truth of it’s rage
and the wars between thunder and lightning that wage
they all are pre-written, just another page
in the screen-write of the storm, cleverly told
and the passion and elegance is part of the mold
But why should I fight it, it’s hard work to write it
So I sit, and I watch, in absolute awe, as a thing of beauty unfolds



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