Fall of the Storm
Grace, Age 14, Plymouth, NH
                      Everything lies 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.
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