Fall of the Storm
Grace, Age 14, Plymouth, NH
just eerily still,
Darkly dank, and warm with chill,
Gray puffs of cloud roll and meet in the sky
Yet there is no sound. Silence reigns by.
Gust-caught leaves are dancing with fright,
Cowering 'neath the grim thunderhead's sight.
First raindrop falls; 'bove the weird twilight,
The rumbling black clouds of the storm unite
BOOM! The crash it makes for the black air.
Sky-bound crows scatter, lightning's sharp blare.
A chill from the West blows in, reeking of pain,
And down from the clouds streams the new rain.
Drip drop; splatter, splat it falls on the ground.
The thunder makes monster-growling sound.
Bolts of lightning rip open the seams of the sky.
Elongated shadows stealthily crawl by
White-hot-charged flashes the wildest in the world,
Illumine dark sky like hell-fire hurled.
And then there is nothing, and then thunder explodes,
The rain it pours loads and loads! But
The life and the roar and the rush of the storm
Melt, surely fade to a hazy, calm warm.
The storm it is dying, for all things must die.
Cracks of sun peek from cloud, bidding thunder good-bye.
Aye, midst the mist, the thunderstorm dies.
Skybound crows again cry joyful cries,
Opening eyes to see bright rainbows form:
The sky is most beautiful after a storm.