Watching an amazing storm off in my "Little House in the Prarie".
A charcoal-hazed backdrop releases its hoard.
So impeccably executed arrows can raze the sky.
While the tall trees’ boughs acquiesce to the wind’s bend.
And the weighted globules’ lateral bravado pounds the tin roofs.
I see the luminous sparks’ melee adding pizzazz on the first try…
But the thunder roll’s memorial executes the power!
Hark the thunder roll! A melodramatic bass and baritone!
And all the other sounds are given no choice, but to cease.
Allowing the sky’s magnificence to have center stage.
While centuries old oaks pay homage to the thunder roll.
“As a wee child, I used to fear; now this woman harbors no quivers.
No longer afraid, I have any shivers.
I now stand to relinquish what was stored.
And revel in the awesomeness of the thunder roll”.