Her hair as wild as a horse's mane

Whips about her angelic face

As she dances with the thunder.

She listens intently, head tilted;

Her eyes are shining

Like prisms that reflect the sunlight.

The smile appears, the girl laughs

While the streaming rain greets the face,

That is upturned toward the heavens.

It is the rumble of the storm

That has called to her

To leap from her mother's arms and be fearless.

When the drops have ceased falling

And the clouds have rolled away,

She is transformed back into a whisper.

Her soft spoken ways

Can be quite deceiving

Because she is the girl who dances with thunder.