From the shore in the eye
of the pounding surf,
stands a glowing vision
in a long hooded cape.

Thunder surrounds her
and deafens those near,
as bolts of lightning
from her fingers escape.

The curse of the devil
beckoned from below,
on the heads of the sinners
who cause death and pain.

They messed with the wrong one
this time they chose her,
the witch with her magic
pulls power from the rain.

Whipping in the wind
hair grazes her cheek
maniacal laughter joins
great thunder within.

She sinks to the sand
she weeps in exhaustion,
folds into herself
this time she can’t win.