The humid heat stews in the oppressive gray sky
Thick clouds like apocalyptic signals push their way on by
A breeze drags by but it’s too hot to do any good
The weather’s too threatening for a breeze to do what it should
The storm is going to come.

Apprehensive people tilt their heads up and pray for some rain
A cool sweet relief from the air that feels like fire and the horrible heat-pain
Time drags by, the whole world stands still, not knowing if the storm will be
For good or for ill, but no matter from which side it comes down,
The storm will come.

The land feels withered as the clouds crouch in the blackening sky
Ready to spring as the hot wind slowly begins to gather and spin
Brushing away the debris of life and twirling dead leaves away on its limbs
A dark hush falls over all of those waiting as the air begins to crackle in a howling cackle
The storm is coming.

With a fierce burst the fiery lightning splits the sky
Leaving its scar in bright white and purple its skeletal limbs they fly
Paving the way for their brother, the thunder, who follows with a sound
That rocks the earth and leaves it shivering in his wake
The storm has come.