I sit still and stare at this breathtaking scene.

Distracted from my work at this image of green.

There is nothing I can do but sit here and wait, 

As the darkness fills the sky like a night in the late. 

As the shadows engulf a near blossoming flower,

A grumble shakes the Earth, as if asserting its power.

I sit through the window, protected and dry, 

With a blank sheet of paper and the loaded question: why? 

Why do storms come and why do they go?

And why do leaves dance like they’re put in a show? 

A miniscule droplet then kisses the glass, 

And millions of its friends then follow, alas! 

I start writing words, not much making sense,

But then get distracted because this is intense!

Why, look at the buds as they wilt in the rain.

This scene is the only thing keeping me sane!

I must write this poem and not go off track,

But who would do that when there’s much to unpack. 

A stream travels down a steep hill in the north,

And shutters on houses are pushed back and forth. 

Then one strike of lightning comes down with a zap, 

And the power goes out with the speed of a snap. 

The new wave of darkness makes it harder to see,

But I remember there’s no place that I’d rather be. 

So I continue to stare as the clouds now recede,

And the much needed sun rises up like a seed. 

The once hidden critters appear from their spots, 

And the light flickers on as I’m deep in my thoughts.

This poem took longer than I had foreseen,

But who would not stare at this breathtaking scene?